


The Invitation

by Hot_elf



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Babies, Double Penetration, Happy Ending, Marriage, Multi, Not Epilogue Compliant, Polyamory, Post-Hogwarts, Threesome - F/M/M, definitely nfsw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:31:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 52,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2504624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hot_elf/pseuds/Hot_elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry runs into Draco Malfoy in the showers after a friendly Quidditch game, he's surprised to receive a very cordial invitation for dinner at Malfoy Manor. And there are more surprises in store... Set ten years after the war, and yes, I'm completely ignoring the epilogue.<br/>NOW WITH BONUS CHAPTER</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Looking good, Potter."

Harry swivelled around at the sound of the all-too familiar drawl. "Malfoy!"

Draco Malfoy was leaning against a shower stall in all his bare, blond glory, clad in nothing but a towel that he'd slung loosely around his waist. Harry swallowed hard and tried not to blush but, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his eyes from roving downwards.

"It's all right, Potter." Yup, there was the characteristic smirk, too. "Look all you want, I don't mind. I rather enjoy the view myself. You've made an effort to keep fit, I see."

Malfoy stepped closer, extending a hand to lightly touch Harry's broad shoulders. Harry's mind was racing as he tried to come up with a witty answer. What kind of game was Malfoy playing? Why had he stayed behind until the two of them were alone in the showers?

Two months ago, Ron had called Harry to tell him about the Quidditch match planned for their ten-year class reunion. "Two teams, each mixed from all the houses. Just for old times’ sake, you know?" Harry had been just as enthusiastic as his friend. This had been the perfect opportunity to meet all the others again and to relive the good times they'd had. Much better than just sitting around and talking.

It hadn't come as a big surprise when he and Malfoy had ended up as the seekers of the two opposing teams. As a matter of fact, it had been exhilarating to face his old rival again. When he'd stolen away the Snitch right from under Draco's hands, he had felt the same triumph he had back at school. For all that they'd outgrown their childish quarrels by now, some things would never change.

After the match, Harry had found excuses to take his time in the showers, relishing the memories evoked by the familiar smells and sights, dreaming of the past while the others had already gone off to celebrate. It seemed he wasn't the only one.

Malfoy's hands slowly traced his collarbone, and Harry's breath hitched. At such a close distance, and with nothing but their towels between them, there was no way to hide his body's reaction, and it made Malfoy's grin widen even further. Though he himself was by no means unaffected, Harry couldn't help but notice.

"Granger is bloody gorgeous, too." Malfoy's silky voice had him hypnotized, or at least it was the only explanation Harry had for why he didn’t turn and walk away. Malfoy chuckled. "Funny that the two of you should have discovered your feelings for each other after all this time. Though, really, I'm just glad she didn't end up with Weasley. He would have been in way over his head."

"Yeah. Funny," Harry croaked in agreement, because really, there was nothing else to say. Draco's analysis was spot on.

Ron and Hermione had lasted for all of two weeks after their final exams. After one particularly epic quarrel involving lots of shouting and wand-waving, she had disappeared without leaving an address. Both Ron and Harry, who had feebly tried to defend his best friend's point of view, had been taken by surprise by the extent of her fury. Later, they had learned that she had moved to Paris, of all places. To be honest, Harry hadn't been sure they would ever see her again.

Ginny and he hadn't fared much better, much to her mother's chagrin. She was engaged to be married to a bloke from the ministry now. Decent chap, from what Harry had heard. Ah, well. They had all been much too young, really. And wasn't it silly, the way everyone had expected those teenage romances to last a lifetime?

Yet, when he had run into Hermione again, two years ago, they had both known immediately that this was it. They had been all over each other from the moment they'd met, in a Muggle bookshop close to Diagon Alley, and they had hardly been apart ever since. Ron had been mad at first, but eventually he'd come around.

"So, what do you say, Potter?" Draco's face was right before Harry’s now, so close he could feel the other man's breath on his skin, so close he was drowning in those cool, grey eyes. "Would you and your charming girlfriend consider coming to my place tomorrow night? For... dinner?"

Without waiting for an answer, Malfoy crossed the distance between them, catching Harry's lips in a kiss. It started out slow, almost tentative, but turned frantic at shocking speed. Before he knew it, Harry found himself pressed hard against Malfoy, cupping his ass through the thin towel, moaning into his mouth as their erections rubbed against each other. He was dizzy with arousal, more than ready to take this further, when Malfoy suddenly let go of his lips and took a step backward, breathing heavily.

"Well?" Draco tilted his head to the side, smiling with just a hint of malice. "Will you come?"

Harry's throat was almost too dry to speak, but he nodded. "I'll talk to her."

"Good. Send me an owl." With a final flash of his teeth at him, Malfoy was gone.

Harry leaned back against the wall, willing his erection to subside. "Merlin!" This reunion had just taken a completely unexpected turn. Unexpected, but by no means unwelcome.

* * *

Hermione yawned and stretched, wiggling out of her dress and kicking off her shoes. The reunion had been lots of fun. It had been interesting to see what had become of the others. Some had stayed around, found ministry jobs, built houses. A few were even married with kids already. Hermione made a face at her reflection in the mirror as she shook out her hair and reached for her brush. She was _so_ glad she'd taken the leap and gone abroad for a while. Nothing like being on your own in a foreign city to widen your horizons. She smiled dreamily at some of the memories of her four years in Paris… Those French wizards had definitely been worth a closer look or two.

"'Mione?" Harry popped his head around the corner, eyeing her appreciatively while struggling with his tie.

He looked flushed and happy, and he'd definitely had one or two drinks too many tonight. It was a good thing she had stayed sober enough to apparate them both home to the tiny London flat they shared.

"What is it?" She rose to walk over to him and began to gently free him from the tie.

To her surprise, he seemed a little nervous when he spoke. "I… We have a dinner invitation for tomorrow, actually."

She raised an eyebrow and began to unbutton his shirt, slowly and deliberately. "Who from?"

Harry swallowed, and she noticed he was avoiding her gaze. "Draco Malfoy."

"Who?" She wasn't entirely sure she'd heard right. "But why would he-"

"Well, that's it, you know." The words were tumbling from Harry's lips in a rush now, the way they did when he was nervous about something. "He… may have something more than dinner in mind."

"Something more… Oh. Oh!" Hermione chewed her lip thoughtfully. They had talked about this, once, when they were sharing their favourite sexual fantasies. A third person in the mix… They had both admitted it would be exciting, but had agreed it would be hard to find a suitable candidate. "What makes you think that?"

Harry actually blushed. "Well, he told me how good we both looked. He was quite charming, really. And then he... He kissed me. In the showers, after the match."

"Merlin!" Hermione felt her eyes widen. "Did he really? And, did you like it?"

Harry didn't reply, and he was still avoiding her gaze, but she knew him well enough. There was a faint flush on his neck, and when she moulded herself against his body, her suspicions were confirmed. If even the memory of that kiss was enough to turn him on like this… "You want to go."

Harry's hand travelled down her naked back, pulling her even closer. "Yes. But, do you?"

She shivered under his touch, closing her eyes in pleasure while she considered her answer. If nothing else, she was curious. Would Malfoy really make a move? And, what would it be like to have them both? She truly enjoyed sex with Harry, so it wasn't as if he couldn't satisfy her. Yet, there was no denying that Malfoy was damnably attractive, with that lithe, slender body of his, and those lovely grey eyes… He had been a pain at school, but she was no longer the girl she'd been back then, and he had changed more than any of them. Besides, it was kind of a triumph, if Malfoy wanted her now, after all those snide remarks about her looks…

"Yes." Having made up her mind, she met Harry’s gaze without flinching. "Let’s do this. We'd never forgive ourselves if we passed up this kind of opportunity."

Harry didn't answer, but the shudder that went through his body at her reply told her more than a thousand words. Picking her up in his arms, he carried her over to their bed with ease. When he dropped her onto the sheets and reached for his belt buckle, a look of single-minded focus on his face, she couldn't hold back a happy moan. This promised to be an exciting night.

* * *

Dinner at Malfoy Manor turned out to be a surprisingly enjoyable affair. The food was delicious, the wine exquisite, and Draco was a charming and impeccably polite host. Yes, Harry found he was having a splendid time. Hermione, too, from what he could tell. Fondly he watched her discuss the current political situation in wizarding Britain with Malfoy.

She was so beautiful like this, her face flushed and animated, her eyes flashing fire. Her hair flowed freely over her shoulders and her curves were perfectly accentuated by her short black dress. Harry was immensely proud of her, and the heated looks Malfoy shot her only served to heighten that feeling.

"So, what do you say?" Draco got to his feet in an elegant, fluid movement. "Would you like a tour of the house? It's been extensively renovated since my parents moved out."

"Sure." Hermione allowed him to take her hand and help her up, smiling when he lifted it to his lips.

He surprised them both by turning her hand around at the last moment and breathing a kiss on her wrist. Hermione shivered visibly, and Harry felt an odd stirring of… jealousy? No, not quite. Arousal, definitely, and a strong urge to be a part of what was happening between them. Draco's eyes flickered back and forth between the two of them, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a wicked smile.

"Come on. I'm quite proud of how the place turned out."

He led them through several tastefully furnished rooms, and then up the stairs. Harry had to admit that Malfoy Manor looked a lot less stuffy and palatial than he remembered it. There were a few select pieces of modern art, which made Hermione squeal with delight, and of course she loved the library.

"And here we are. End of the tour." Draco ushered them through a door into what was quite unmistakably the master bedroom.

A large bed dominated the space. Hermione walked toward it, her hips swinging seductively. Malfoy let the door fall shut behind him with an audible thud, leaning against it and watching them both, his grey eyes clear and intent.

When Hermione turned around, she looked uncertain. "What now?"

Draco smiled. "Whatever you want."

Slowly, he advanced toward her, stopping when he was right in front of her, and glancing at Harry, a question in his eyes. Harry nodded, once again tongue-tied. Still moving at a careful pace, giving her lots of time to pull back if she wanted to, Draco bent down to kiss Hermione.

The moment their lips met, she moaned, soft and low, and Harry couldn't bear just to watch them any longer. Two quick steps took him right behind her, embracing her, running his hands up her body to cup her breasts. She moaned again, arching into his touch, and he felt her nipples harden under his hands.

When Draco finally pulled back a little, her lips were swollen from his kiss, full and red and delectable. Locking eyes with her, Draco slowly unbuttoned his shirt, then shrugged it off. His skin was pale, but perfect, smooth and soft, and Harry couldn't resist reaching past Hermione to touch him.

"You, too, Potter." Draco's eyes were dark, his pupils widely blown. "Let me see."

"Harry," Hermione corrected him, placing a finger on his mouth.

"Harry," Draco acquiesced, but his eyes crinkled with amusement, and before she could pull back her finger, he had already caught it between his teeth and sucked hard on it.

She reacted with a full-body shudder, and just like that, Harry was fully hard. With shaking hands, he took off his own shirt, then his pants, adding them to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Draco followed suit, leaving them both in nothing but their boxers.

"You're overdressed, love," Harry breathed into Hermione's ear, and she made a small, humming noise of agreement.

"Well, that's easily fixed," Draco drawled, running a teasing finger along the cleavage of her dress. "Harry?"

He nodded, finding her zipper and sliding it slowly down. The dress slid off her shoulders, pooling at her feet, and Draco was immediately down on his knees to help her step out of it and take off her shoes. Underneath the dress, she was wearing a set of black, lacy lingerie Harry had given her for her last birthday. She looked stunning in it, as she well knew. Stunning and sexy and sinfully gorgeous.

Draco seemed to agree with this assessment, judging from the low sound emerging from his throat. He was hard, too, and obviously bothered by his boxers. With an impatient huff, he got rid of them. Harry did the same, glancing over briefly, unable to resist the urge to compare. No need to worry, though. Draco was an impressive size, but then, Harry had never had a reason to be self-conscious either.

Draco was still kneeling at Hermione's feet, so the next step seemed obvious. With a quick glance up at her face, he firmly took hold of her thighs and pulled her closer, placing a soft kiss on her through the silky fabric of her panties. Harry's own hands found her breasts again, kneading them softly. Between the two of them, they soon had her writhing and begging, swaying on her feet, only held upright by Harry's firm grip.

When Draco pulled down her panties with a final flourish and Harry sneaked a hand between her legs, she was soaking wet. On impulse, he extended his glistening fingers to Draco who eagerly caught them between his lips, tasting her with relish. Harry felt his cock twitch at the sight.

"Merlin, Gr-" Draco caught himself just in time. "Hermione. Will you let me…” He reached past her into the drawer of the bedside table, producing a stack of condoms.

"Yes. Please." Hermione's fingers tightened on Draco's shoulders. "Is this okay, Harry?"

He nodded. "More than okay."

Draco quickly rolled on the condom, unfazed by their eyes on him. "How do we do this?"

Hermione hesitated for a moment, but then a familiar look of determination appeared on her face. Shrugging off her bra, she climbed on the bed and arranged herself on her hands and knees, wiggling her ass enticingly at them. Draco didn't need to be asked twice. Moving behind her, he placed one hand on her hips and used the other one to guide himself into her.

Harry couldn't take his eyes off the scene unfolding on the bed. He hadn't expected this to be such a massive turn-on, watching the woman he loved being taken by another man, but it was immensely exciting. The expression on her face as Draco slowly pushed deeper; the way she arched her back to help him find the perfect angle; the fine sheen of sweat on her skin that made her hair cling to her back…. He was aching with the need to have her, to make love to her, to _fuck_ her. It was an exquisite torture to find himself relegated to mere spectator, and yet he didn't want to miss a second of this. Draco, too, was beautiful: the deep frown of concentration on his face as he held back; the tension in his slim body; and the sheer grace of his movements.

A heart-felt sigh of longing escaped Harry’s lips, and Hermione's eyes opened, fixing on him with a mischievous gleam. "Come here."

He gasped when he realized what she had in mind. Kneeling before her, he buried his hands in her long hair, his head flying back on a long sigh when her lips closed around him. Draco echoed his groan, his hands tightening visibly on Hermione's hips as he slowed down to give her a chance to concentrate on what she was doing to Harry.

Harry was beyond words, beyond thoughts even, unable to focus on anything but _yes, good, more, don't stop_. Hermione's mouth on him felt so amazingly good, hot and moist and _perfect_ , and he couldn't possibly last long like this. When he came, the rush of pleasure was so overwhelming that he actually shouted out loud, his vision going white for a moment.

Draco had been watching him avidly, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. When Harry pulled back, he turned his attention back to Hermione, his hips moving faster now as he pounded into her with increased vigour. She moaned and trembled, but Harry knew it wouldn't be enough. Moving behind them, he took one of Draco’s hands, breathing a quick kiss on his shoulder blade.

"Wait. She needs-" He guided Draco's hand around her body, down between her legs.

As soon as their entwined fingers touched her, Hermione cried out, her whole body going taut. It only took a few quick, light strokes to send her over the edge, with Draco immediately following her. It was the hottest thing Harry had ever experienced, both of them coming practically in his arms, both of them going soft and boneless against him.

They all tumbled onto the mattress afterwards, sweaty and exhausted. Draco stared up at the ceiling, his face unreadable, while Hermione snuggled into Harry's arms. For a moment, Harry was unsure of what to say or do, but then he decided that this was not the moment to overthink things.

"Draco?" When the other man shot him a questioning glance, he reached out to pull him closer. "Thank you. That was..."

"Marvellous? Amazing? Mind blowing?" Draco suggested. "Merlin, yes. We should do that again some time."

"We definitely should," Hermione agreed.

Harry sighed contentedly. For the life of him, he could see no reason to contradict them.

                   


	2. Chapter 2

Finding another opportunity to be together again proved trickier than any of them had anticipated.

First, Harry got called away on an urgent mission to the Outer Hebrides. A tribe of selkies had abducted a group of New Age tourists who had unwittingly summoned them by dancing naked on the beaches of Barra. Convincing them to give up their prey was no easy feat. Harry returned with a few nasty bite wounds that kept the healers at St Mungo's busy for more than a week.

They tried to find another suitable date, but it was Draco's turn to cancel next. One of his great-grand-aunts died in Antibes, leaving him a lovely villa on the Cote d'Azur. Unfortunately, the property turned out to be haunted by the ghosts of a Roman centurion and his beautiful Gallic lover who kept re-enacting their tragic love affair. Hermione was glad to help Draco out with a few translations from Latin, but the fact remained that he had to deal with the problem first. So, their plans had to be postponed again.

Hermione was getting impatient. Nearly three months had passed since their first encounter at Malfoy Manor. She had enjoyed the attentions of the two men a lot, and she wanted more. Her curiosity wasn't remotely sated yet, and besides, she was eager to explore a few scenarios she had found on the internet when she'd googled poly relationships.

"Really, 'Mione?" Harry had rolled his eyes at her attempts at research. "This is not a school assignment. I doubt knowing the theory will help us here."

But, she wasn't fooled. Several times, she'd caught him glancing at her laptop screen with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. He was just as curious as she was.

In the end, they decided to simply invite Draco to their London flat for drinks on a Saturday night. Hermione had cast a number of charms on the upper floors of the old house on Grimmauld Place, turning it from a gloomy, forbidding mausoleum into a warm and inviting space with a nice view of the Lake District. It wasn't huge, but it had been completely refurbished, and Hermione had made sure there were plenty of cosy corners for reading and snuggling up together. She was glad for a chance to show Draco that their home was just as nice as his, even if it was a lot less impressive from the outside.

But, on the morning of their date, Hermione awoke with a stuffed nose and an ear-splitting headache. She knew from experience that healing spells were all but useless against common colds. She could alleviate the pain, but apart from that, she had no choice but to let nature run its course. Which meant that, instead of an alluring sex goddess, she'd be a sniffling wretch tonight.

Harry took one good look at her and sighed resignedly. "I'll send him an owl. You need peace and quiet, not-"

"Wait." She stopped him with a hand on his arm. "I don't want to cancel again."

He shrugged. "Neither do I. But I don't think you'll be up for any _vigorous activities_ tonight." He accompanied his words with an exaggerated wiggle of his eyebrows that made her laugh, even though her throat hurt.

"Probably not," she conceded. "But, you know… I could still enjoy the show."

"You mean…" Harry sighed. "Look, 'Mione, I know you're in love with the idea of watching us. And I certainly wouldn't be opposed to it, but we can't be sure that's what Mal-, what _Draco_ wants. Last time-"

"Oh, please, Harry." Hermione sneezed violently. "He kept staring at you, and he was eager enough to kiss you, wasn't he? I'll owl him and ask what he thinks."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but he was fighting a losing battle, and he knew it. Hermione grinned to herself, reaching for a tissue. She'd be damned if she couldn't persuade them.

* * *

Draco arrived early, dressed casually in black jeans and a charcoal turtleneck sweater that emphasized his slim build. He embraced Harry briefly, and Harry had to admit it felt nice. Briefly, he wondered what his fourteen-year-old self would have thought about this scenario. _I'd probably have hexed everyone who suggested it._ He had to smile at the thought.

In the meantime, Draco had wandered over to Hermione, who had made herself comfortable on the couch with a big, fluffy blanket. The dark red nightdress she'd put on was warm and comfy rather than sexy, and even though the colour flattered her, it did nothing to show off her body. There were dark rings under her eyes and her hair was an untamed mess.

"Merlin, Granger, you look like-" He caught himself just in time. "Well, let's say you've looked better. Here." Handing her a small packet, he sat down cross-legged on the floor next to her, peering up at her through his thick, blond lashes.

"Well, thank you very much, Mr Malfoy." Hermione glared at him, putting on her best prefect tone. "What did you- Oh! You brought me tea?"

"My mother's special recipe against head colds. Ginger and Moroccan mint." Draco grinned smugly, obviously proud that he'd managed to surprise her. "Should make you feel better soon."

"That's… that's actually really sweet of you." Hermione sniffled a little, and Harry wasn't sure if it was the cold or if she was genuinely touched by the gesture. "Who would have thought you had it in you?"

"Come on, now." Draco's grin widened even further. "Don't forget I'm an evil Slytherin. I probably have some ulterior motive in getting your nose unstuffed. Such as making sure you can breathe freely while you-"

"Draco!" Hermione did a good job of pretending to be scandalized, but Harry wasn't fooled. He knew she loved a good innuendo as much as the next person.

"Give me the packet," was all he said aloud. "I'll make you a nice cup of tea."

"Put in some honey," Draco helpfully supplied. "And maybe a dash of lemon."

He got to his feet and followed Harry to the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe and watching as he put on the kettle. Draco’s gaze was openly appraising, and Harry was glad he'd taken care to look nice tonight. After some consideration, he'd settled for a tight blue long-sleeve shirt that brought out the colour of his eyes and showed off his well-toned upper body. The look in Draco's eyes left no doubt that he appreciated the effort.

"Here. Can you take this to her?" Harry handed Draco the steaming cup, doing his best to seem nonchalant. He wasn't nervous, exactly, just… unsure of how to proceed from here.

"Sure." Draco didn't move immediately, though, just stayed where he was, barring the way to the living room, still with that infuriating smile on his lips.

The kitchen was small, and they were standing close to each other, so close they were almost touching. Draco was a good three inches taller, and Harry had to tilt his head up to look into his eyes. Which was… hot in a way, but also a little irritating. Harry bit back a sigh. Draco's lips twitched, but he didn't say what amused him so much. Instead, he finally turned on his heels and made his way over to the couch.

Hermione greeted them with a grateful smile, which turned into an expression of sheer bliss when she took her first sip of the tea. "Merlin, this is so good."

"Drink it up." Draco was watching her intently. "I swear, as soon as you feel better, I'll start thinking about other ways to put that look on your face."

Harry cleared his throat. The image Draco's words conjured was… intriguing, to say the least. "Would you like a drink, then?"

"Absolutely." Draco was back at his side in a flash, inspecting their little bar with interest. "Mmmhmm, you've got a nice selection of Scotch whiskies here, Potter."

"Harry." Hermione corrected him in a nasal voice. "And those are mine. But feel free to have a glass. Both of you. Maybe that will speed things up."

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Draco flashed her another provocative grin. "I didn't know you were so impatient. Now, I..." He glanced at Harry over the rim of his glass as he took a deep draught, savouring the taste of the whisky. "I like to take my time enjoying the good things in life."

"You do?" Harry was surprised how husky his own voice sounded, far more suggestive than he'd intended.

There was something about being here with Draco that brought out this side in him, as if the presence of the infamous Slytherin freed him to be a little more naughty than usual. Hermione, too, from what he'd observed during their time at Malfoy Manor. Maybe that wasn't surprising. People expected the heroes of the Wizarding War to be above reproach in all matters, and if he was honest, it was exhausting being a shining beacon of moral excellence all the time.

Whatever the reason, having Draco here, in their living room, his eyes burning deeply into Harry's as he took another sip, was a huge thrill. Plucking up his courage, Harry took the glass from his hands and put it aside, then leaned in for a kiss. It was shy and tentative at first, but Draco's lips opened willingly under his, his tongue darting out to tease Harry's lower lip.

With a groan, Harry delved in deeper, eager to explore that wicked mouth. Draco tasted of smoke and peat, the rich, heady aroma of the Island whisky, mixed with his own unique flavour, and it was a truly intoxicating cocktail. He lost himself in that kiss for what seemed like an eternity, all conscious thought forgotten. It was just like their first kiss in the changing room, just as incredibly intense, and yet it was better, deeper, full of promise.

When Harry regained his senses, they were grinding against each other, their bodies only separated by the thin layer of their clothing, and suddenly even that was too much. He needed to get them out of the way, and he tore impatiently at Draco's clothes.

"Careful. That's my favourite sweater." Draco pretended to be amused, but his eyes were dark with arousal and the tips of his fingers were digging deep into Harry's back.

"Get it off," Harry growled, dimly aware that Hermione was watching them from her vantage point on the couch, her eyes wide with fascination.

"Not going to argue. Just let me-" Draco pushed him back a little and grabbed the hem of the offending garment with both hands, slowly pulling it up to reveal his pale torso.

Harry followed suit, yanking off his own shirt with more speed than grace. Moments later, they were embracing again, and it felt incredibly good, that whole expanse of smooth, hard flesh his to touch and to caress. Draco responded eagerly, moaning unrestrainedly when Harry cupped him through his pants.

"Merlin, Harry, that feels-" He broke off and dropped to his knees in one smooth move. And then his mouth was on Harry, hot and wonderful even through the fabric of his jeans. "Damn it, get those off. I need-"

Harry didn't need to be asked twice. If Draco needed it, he _craved_ it, with an urgency that left him breathless. As soon as Draco’s lips closed around him, his vision went white and he had to hold on to the other man’s shoulders for balance. _So good._

* * *

Hermione could no longer keep her hands still. She had anticipated that watching the two of them would be hot, but nothing could have prepared her for the reality of it. Here they were, right before her, so close she could hear every whimper and see every twitch and shiver. The whole set-up was incredibly exciting, enough to make her forget how lousy she felt, at least for a while.

It was almost enough just to watch the expressions on their faces, Draco's hungry and predatory, Harry's full of abandon. Almost, but not quite, because there was so much more to take in: their naked bodies, each beautiful in their own right, Draco's lips wrapped around Harry's hardness, his hand dropping down to free his own cock from the confines of his pants, closing tightly around his length. It was better than anything she had seen online, better than anything she had imagined in her fevered fantasies, because it was real, and it was _them_.

With shaking fingers, Hermione pushed down her panties. She was wet, soaking wet, and her fingers slid easily between her folds. Just then, Harry glanced up, and his eyes met hers, widening when he saw what she was doing.

"Merlin, 'Mione!" There was a tremble in his voice, but he held her gaze, his green eyes more intense than she'd ever seen them, his hands tightening on Draco's shoulders until his knuckles went white.

Draco let go of him for a heartbeat, but didn't turn around, just glanced up at Harry, giving him a few lazy strokes with his hand. "What is she doing? Tell me." His voice was dark as sin, and it sent another flash of heat to her core.

Before Harry could even reply, Draco went back to what he'd been doing, tearing another whine from Harry's lips. "Damn it, Draco, how do you expect me to _tell you_ when you-" He took a deep breath, trying to collect himself. "She's touching herself. Stroking herself. It's… Merlin, it's _so hot_." His voice broke on the last two words.

Draco made a low humming noise of approval and Harry cursed again, swaying on his feet. Hermione increased the pressure, her hand moving as fast as she could. She was so close already, so very close, and hearing Harry's words had brought her even closer to the edge. He must have realized, because he kept talking, gasping between words, the muscles in his stomach rippling convulsively.

"She… Draco, she's so beautiful like this, hot and flushed, and-" He broke off, biting his lips hard, his eyes clenched shut. "Whatever you do, please don't stop now, please don't, please-"

He was practically shouting, his whole body taut as a rope, then going limp as he came with a last, violent shudder. Draco let go of him with a triumphant laugh and grabbed himself harder, finishing with two hard strokes. The sight of him coming was the last straw. Hermione arched up high, every cell of her body flooded with a pleasure so intense she nearly passed out.

When she came to her senses again, Harry was at her side, embracing her gently, kissing her sweat-soaked forehead.

"Hey." His voice sounded hoarse – no wonder, really.

Harry wasn't usually this vocal in bed, but she had _liked_ it, she definitely had.Hermione had never seen anything more beautiful than the way he had lost control just now. He was still naked, and his skin was warm and flushed, though not as hot as hers. Draco had peeled off his pants, too, and was leaning against the mantelpiece, completely unconcerned about his nakedness, watching them with an easy smile. Suddenly, Hermione felt enormously tired. When she yawned, Harry's mouth twitched.

"Come on, love. I'll take you to bed." He picked her up and carried her over to the bedroom, lowering her gently onto the sheets.

Her eyes closed the moment her head hit the pillow, but she managed to blink at him sleepily. "Will you be all right?"

"Oh yes." Harry glanced over at the doorway with a grin. "I'm sure we will be perfectly fine."

                                                                      

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes, this has sprouted a third chapter. Many thanks to all of you who commented . As you will see, my muse didn't agree with all of your ideas (Draco as a sperm donor doesn't work for me at this point, mainly because I don't see Hermione as that desperate for a baby yet). Still, I hope you'll find something you enjoy.

The invitation arrived via email, just as Hermione was getting ready to join Draco and Harry on the couch. They had finished dinner a while ago, and then chatted amicably about this or that before she had slunk off to check her inbox while the guys got comfortable. Harry had already taken off his heavy sweater, leaving him only in a blue t-shirt and comfy track pants, and Draco had kicked off his shoes to place his feet in Harry's lap.

They had settled into a sort of easy intimacy in the past few months, spending more and more nights together, mostly at Grimmauld Place, though they would occasionally enjoy a long weekend at Draco's place. Most of their friends had no clue as to the real nature of their relationship, of course. Ginny knew, and so did Luna and Neville. None of them had seemed particularly shocked, but then, they all knew there were more important things in life to worry about than somebody's sex life. Fortunately, the press hadn't got wind of it either, though Rita Skeeter had published a rather bitchy article about the “budding friendship between the former arch-enemies” when a photo of Harry with his arm around Draco's shoulders had leaked.

Hermione glanced fondly at the two guys. Harry was playfully tickling Draco's feet but there was already a certain tension in the line of his shoulders, and she knew the teasing would turn into something else soon.

“How do the two of you feel about going to a party with me?” She swivelled around in her chair so she was facing them.

“What, both of us?” Draco shot back, at the same time as Harry inquired “What kind of party?”

She raised a hand to silence them both. “Yes, both of you. I'm getting tired of playing hide-and-seek,” she answered Draco's question first. “Besides, this is a Muggle party, thrown by a very old friend of mine. We’re not likely to run into anyone who knows you there.”

“A Muggle party?” Draco's eyebrows almost met his hairline. “Honestly, Hermione? I can't imagine-“

“Exactly. You can't, because I bet you've never been to a Muggle party in all your life, am I right?” She frowned at him, but then something else occurred to her. “And you probably haven't either.” She glanced at Harry, who blushed and nodded, confirming her suspicion.

“Anyway, this is going to be fun,” she continued. “Sinéad is one of my oldest friends. We've known each other since we were babies in the same play group. She's fun to be with, even if she's a Muggle. Besides, it's not just any party.” She paused for effect. “It's an Avengers costume party.”

“A what?” The clueless look on Draco's face was almost comical, but when she looked at Harry, the same incomprehension was written on his features.

“Now, don't tell me you guys have never watched an Avengers movie? Captain America? Iron Man? Thor?” She did her best to jog their memories, but only received blank stares in return.

“I do recall Thor from a book I had as a child,” Draco finally ventured. “The God of Thunder. If I remember it right, there was a theory that the Germanic Gods were really giants from the mountains of northern Scandinavia, or maybe even a primitive tribe of wizards…”

“No, not the mythological Thor,” Hermione interrupted him impatiently. “The guy from the Marvel universe. Big, blond, beefy, throws a hammer?” She shook her head. “Sweet Merlin, Harry, did you never read any comic books as a kid?”

Harry shook his head. “Nope. Dudley had a whole collection, but he would have beaten me up if I had so much as touched them.”

Hermione sighed, feeling a little mollified at this reminder of his lousy childhood. “Well, I guess there's only one thing to do.” She got to her feet and walked over to them with a determined expression, enjoying the way Draco's eyes lingered on her breasts. “Next weekend we’ll get a bunch of DVDs. And I'll introduce the two of you to the concept of binge watching.”

* * *

Draco's head was spinning. This _binge watching_ doubtlessly was fun, and now, five movies down the line, he was finally beginning to see how they all tied together. But, he was getting really tired, and he was sincerely grateful when Hermione announced a break for dinner. Muggle pizza was an idea he could definitely get behind, and ordering in was much preferable to spending hours in the kitchen themselves, as far as he was concerned.

“So let me get this straight.” Harry seemed almost as bewildered as him. “Captain America was asleep for what? … seventy years? And he's still a better soldier than anyone they have today? There are gods and monsters and mutated superheroes, and no one even seems surprised? Where's the logic in that? And they have a _flying aircraft carrier_? That sounds like something Mr Weasley would come up with.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Honestly, why do people even want to watch this stuff?”

Hermione grinned. “Oh, come on, Harry. It's fun. Simple, brainless entertainment for people who have no real magic in their lives. No need to analyse it. And as for why people want to watch it…” Her grin widened. “I can think of at least five good reasons, and two of them are called Chris.”

“Chris?” Harry looked even more confused for a moment, but then his face lit up in sudden understanding. “Oh, you mean the actors! Yeah, I guess they are…”

“Pretty damn hot,” Hermione finished for him. “Yes. Eye candy. The best I can think of.”

“The ladies are quite attractive as well,” Draco felt obliged to add. “Especially, what's her name, the Black Spider.”

“The Black Widow,” Hermione corrected him gently. “Natasha Romanoff. Yes, she's gorgeous. I was considering getting myself a Black Widow costume for the party, actually.”

Draco couldn't deny that the idea of seeing her dressed up in a tight black suit did interesting things to him. “You'd need a wig,” was all he said aloud.

“True.” Hermione nodded. “Shouldn't be a problem. They come with the costume.”

And she wouldn't have to worry about squeezing her mass of hair under it any more, Draco thought with a brief pang. He still missed her mane sometimes, though the pixie cut she'd gotten a few weeks after they'd started sleeping together really suited her. It brought out her beautiful eyes and the fine bone structure of her face in a way the curls never had. Still, he had loved burying his hands in her hair, yanking back her head so Harry could kiss her throat, winding strands of it around his hands…

He came back from his brief reverie to find Hermione and Harry both bent over her laptop, looking at various costumes available online.

“I don't know, ‘Mione.” Harry was frowning. “Most of them look shabby to me.”

“True.” She sighed. “But I could add a little glamour and maybe-“

“Nonsense.” Draco realized he sounded sharper than he'd intended, and he did his best to moderate his tone. “Get me a few good pictures and I'll set the house elves to work. I'll pay them extra!” he added hurriedly, when he saw a familiar gleam in Hermione’s eyes. “Trust me, the costumes will turn out so much better.”

Hermione was clearly struggling with her principles, but in the end, one more look at the shop website decided her. “All right. Can you ask them to make a Black Widow costume for me, then?” She prodded Harry with her elbow. “What about you?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You _know_ I hate dressing up.”

He was saved momentarily by the ringing of the bell announcing the pizza delivery guy. But when he returned, carrying three big boxes which exuded a lovely smell of cheese and salami, Hermione was still waiting patiently.

“Well?” She pursed her lips in clear disapproval. “You can't just show up in your everyday clothes. That's cheating.”

“He could come as Bruce Banner, though,” Draco interjected, reaching for his pizza. “All he needs is a purple shirt and a pair of tweed pants. You could even dig out your old glasses, Potter,” he added with a provocative grin.

Harry glared back, but at the same time he nodded slowly, clearly taken with the idea. “Yeah. I guess I could live with that.”

“Very well.” Hermione thoughtfully chewed on her first slice of spinach pizza. “Maybe I can paint part of your face green, you know, to indicate imminent transformation into the Hulk.” Ignoring Harry’s pained grimace, she turned to Draco. “And you? Who will you be?”

“Isn't that obvious?” He flashed her his most evil grin. “I'll be Loki, of course.”

* * *

The party was amazing. Try as she might, Hermione couldn't recall the last time she'd had so much fun, well at least outside of the bedroom. Not even Harry's absence could put a damper on her enjoyment.

He'd been called off to an urgent case at the last moment. A group of schoolboys at Eton had let loose a whole tribe of boggarts in their dorms when they'd dug around in an old closet hidden away in the attics. The only saving grace for the wizarding world was that the adults in charge had ascribed the gruesome stories to an overactive imagination. At Hermione's suggestion, Harry and his colleagues were going to spread a rumour that the kids had watched forbidden horror movies on a smuggled-in tablet. Still, the boggarts needed to be dealt with, and there would be no shortage of obliviation spells to be dealt out either. Being an auror was hard work, more often than not. True, she sometimes envied him the excitement and the glamour of it, but in reality, she much preferred her own job in the _very_ restricted section of the British Museum Library.

Though, come to think of it, Harry had seemed relieved to have any kind of excuse to avoid the party. Draco, on the other hand… He looked _magnificent_ in his costume. The house elves had outdone themselves with the detail on his tight leather pants and swishy coat. Hermione smiled to herself when she realized the costume was mostly black and green. _Slytherin green_. He had dyed his hair pitch black with the help of a spell, and, as a crowning glory, added the infamous horned helmet and sceptre to the outfit.

Looking at him made her throat go dry, and she wasn't the only one. From the moment they'd entered the room, he'd been surrounded by eager fan girls, some of them practically climbing into his lap. Draco obviously enjoyed the attention, but he didn't talk much, periodically catching her gaze as if to reassure himself that she was still there. It had to be strange for him, with all those people talking about unfamiliar topics, all the strange foods, and all those guys shooting him angry glances because he was distracting their girlfriends. Though, knowing Draco, he probably was enjoying that last bit thoroughly. _Evil bastard_. She smiled fondly.

In light of all the attention he was getting, Hermione was sincerely glad that she didn't have to worry about her own outfit either. Her black catsuit was tight, incredibly tight, and she was grateful for every minute she'd ever spent in a gym. But she'd gotten her share of admiring glances already, not to mention a few more explicit offers from masked men. There were two more Black Widows at the party, but neither of them looked quite as provocative. Most of the other girls had opted to come as Darcy, or Pepper, or Jane Foster, a look that was a lot easier to pull off. It was kind of gratifying to be the hottest chick in the room for once.

She had spent some time chatting with Sinéad, complimenting her on the decorations. The room had been turned into a decent approximation of Tony Stark’s lab, with papier-mâché Iron Man suits lined up on one wall and computer screens and tools covering every available surface. Hermione had worked her way through the buffet, sampling various themed delicacies. There were Iron Man peppers and Captain America muffins, green Hulk jelly, tiny Thor's hammers and 'real Asgardian' salmon vol au vents. Somewhat to her surprise, most of the food was actually tasty, too.

Afterwards, she had hit the dance floor, dancing until her feet hurt and she was out of breath. The music was fantastic, a combination of the different movie soundtracks and some solid dance beats. Even now, when she had retreated to the side-lines for a break, she found herself swaying in time with it until two firm hands settled on her hips, pulling her close to a tall, slender body.

“You look gorgeous.” Draco's voice in her ear sounded rough with want. “Damn it, Hermione, if I have to watch you wiggle your ass in that suit a little longer, I’m going to do something indecent, I swear.”

His hand slowly traced one of the suit’s seams, with just enough pressure to make her feel it through the material. At the same time, Hermione felt his tongue on her neck, teasing, flicking lightly against her skin, making her think of other things he could do with that wicked tongue…

She cleared her throat. “You mean, even more indecent?” She was pleased to discover she sounded unfazed, though she was anything but. Her whole skin was already tingling with want, and she was beginning to feel uncomfortably wet.

“Oh, I can be a _lot_ more indecent.” There it was again, that drawl in his voice that used to irritate her so much at school. Ten months of regular sex with him had conditioned her to have a completely different reaction to it. Before she could control herself, a moan escaped her lips.

"You know, Granger…" _Uh-oh._ If he was back to calling her by her last name again, he was definitely in a bad boy mood tonight. "I have a theory that you actually _like_ it when I misbehave."

 _Well, yes._ She wasn't going to admit it straight away, though. There was no point in making things too easy for him. "You think?" She put on her best prefect face, knowing it would rile him up further. "I don't know, Draco. I have a reputation to maintain, you know, and I-"

"You do?" Once again, his tongue was back, flicking against her ear, and then his teeth caught her earlobe, biting down just hard enough to make her stifle a cry. "Such a well-behaved young lady you are. But remember, I'm Loki tonight. The God of Mischief. Charming…" He chuckled darkly. "And evil."

His words sent another sharp spike of arousal through her, and she didn't have it in her to toy with him any longer.

"Well, how could I resist the wiles of an actual _god_?" Without glancing back at him, she let her hips roll, just once, grinding herself suggestively against him.

Draco hissed sharply, pulling her so close she could feel him hard and eager through his pants. “Come with me.”

Grabbing her wrist, he dragged her over to the door, out into a small, deserted hallway. When he pressed her to the wall in a tight embrace, shoving his thigh between hers to press it against her core, she tried in vain to protest. “Merlin, Draco, we can't do this here. Any moment-“

Her words were smothered by a greedy kiss, and then there was the familiar, swirling sensation of apparating and the walls around her disappeared.

* * *

It was such a blessed relief to finally have her to himself. As soon as the ground was firm enough under their feet, Draco dragged Hermione over to the heavy, antique mahogany desk. He was secretly convinced he wouldn't have been able to wait even a second longer before tearing her bodysuit off. It had been delicious torture to watch the way the suit hugged the outline of her trim, taut body in glorious detail, and the tightness of his leather pants hadn't helped matters.

“Careful.” Hermione giggled when the zipper got stuck, and the sound made him oddly happy. “You don't want to break it.” She leaned back over the desk, allowing him easier access. “Where are we anyway?”

“My study.” His hands were actually shaking with desire, and he had to pause for a moment to collect himself. “I had to get you away from all those people.”

Hermione’s breathless laugh turned into a whimper when he shoved the suit roughly down over her shoulders, baring her breasts to his greedy mouth. “But why… Merlin, Draco! …why here? Why not your bedroom?”

“Because I've dreamt of bending you over this desk and taking you for months.” He deliberately let a rough edge creep into his voice, knowing it would drive her wild, and was rewarded with a small whine from her lips.

The helmet was beginning to bother him, and he shucked it off, but when Hermione reached for the red wig, he caught her wrist. “No, leave it on. It's hot.”

With a swift move he turned her around so she was facing away from him and he could make his fantasy come true. When he pushed the suit down over her hips, he almost lost it at the sight that greeted him: her firm, round ass, raised invitingly, with nothing but a flimsy bit of lace between him and what he wanted most right now. He tore her panties off without compunction. He'd give her a new pair next time, or maybe they'd go shopping for some together…

“Draco, please.” The sound of her voice, pleading and wrecked, went straight to his groin. “Please, I can't wait.”

Draco quickly pushed his own pants down, not bothering with the rest of the costume. He couldn't take another moment of delay either, and he was sincerely grateful that they didn't have to scramble about for protection anymore. Contraception was easily taken care of with a spell anyway, and as for other problems… At Hermione's insistence, all three of them had gotten thoroughly tested, both magically and the Muggle way, and Draco had solemnly sworn he wouldn't fool around with anyone else. Rather to his surprise, they fully trusted him to keep his word. And honestly, he hadn't even looked at anyone else in the past few months. Why would he, with such hotness at his beck and call?

Hermione made a small impatient noise, and he spread her legs, pushing deep inside her wet heat as swiftly as he dared. Her head flew back with a long sigh, and he smiled triumphantly. The knowledge of how much she wanted him, how much she enjoyed having him inside her, made his heart swell with pride. Well, not just his heart, to be honest. Without further ado, he began to move, and it was amazing to feel her, without any barrier between them, skin on skin, so sweet, so hot.

Hermione's nails were scrambling for purchase in the thick leather covering of the desk, and her whole body was trembling as he took her higher and higher, no quarter given. The red wig made her look slightly slutty, and the idea tickled the Slytherin in him beyond measure. Prim, proper Hermione Granger, Gryffindor’s princess, writhing before him and looking utterly debauched – it was one of his darkest boyhood fantasies come true.

And yet, even as the naughtiness of it sent his arousal spiralling higher and higher, he knew that they had moved well past those childish squabbles. This was Hermione, the woman who had come to mean more to him in the past few months than he cared to admit. A gorgeous, strong-willed, confident woman, who had no fear of playing along with him in this, because she knew all too well that it was just a game nowadays. A highly exciting game, but a game nevertheless.

He was rapidly moving past such lofty thoughts, though. She felt so good around him, soaked with excitement, wonderfully tight, and she made the most wonderful noises as he pounded into her. Already, he felt his balls tighten, and he knew it wouldn't be long now, though he did his best to hold it off just a little longer.

“Draco. Please.” She pushed back against him as if she wanted him even deeper inside, but he was already buried inside her as far as he could go.

Reaching around her, he found her clit and pressed the heel of his hand hard against it, too far gone for more refined caresses. It was enough. With a final full-throated moan, she clenched hard around him, screaming his name as her body shook with the force of her climax. _So lovely._ Closing his eyes, he finally let go, and when he came, it was- He'd never been good with words where emotions were concerned, but there was probably no way to do this kind of intensity justice anyway. All he knew was that he never wanted the moment to end, never wanted his nerves to stop buzzing, his body to come down from this incredible high.

But of course, reality asserted itself soon enough. Slowly he slid out of her, taking care to keep the leakage to a minimum. _One thing to be said for those blasted condoms._ They finished peeling the costumes off and headed for the bathroom. Hermione was still a little wobbly on her feet, and she leaned into his steadying embrace with a giddy laugh.

“Merlin, Draco.” She glanced up at him with an expression of sheer mischief in her dark brown eyes. “Harry has no idea what he's been missing tonight.”

The thought made him stop in his tracks. _Shit_. What would Harry say if- “Are you-“ He cleared his throat when he realized he sounded croaky. “Are you sure this is all right with him?”

He actually felt ashamed for not having wasted a thought on Harry earlier. All he'd been thinking of had been how to get into Hermione's pants as soon as possible. Well, _thinking_ was probably a generous way of phrasing it in any case. But, he appreciated their little arrangement far too much to want to risk it, and if Harry-

“Don't worry.” Hermione stopped in front of the mirror to remove the wig, shaking out her hair with visible relief. “I cleared this with him months ago. He's fine with the two of us having fun without him.” Once again, she shot him a decidedly saucy look. “He might want to hear all the details, though.”

 _And who could blame him?_ Draco stepped under the shower with a pleased shiver. He, for one, wouldn't mind reliving this night in memory, over and over again.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

"Could I have another scone, please?" Ginny gazed hopefully at the basket.

But Hermione shook her head. "They're all gone. There's another pear and walnut pastry, though, if you want."

"No. They make me come out in a rash. It's the raisins, you know." Ginny sighed. "Never mind. I'll have another sandwich, then."

They had gotten into the habit of meeting once a month for afternoon tea at Claridge's hotel. It had started out as a joke, because it was such a _very_ British thing to do, and it was fun to play at being so pretentious. But they had ended up coming back for more. The food was actually really delicious, and the atmosphere a lot less stuffy than they had expected.

Besides, it was good to have a chance to talk without the guys being present. Harry and Ginny got along okay most of the time, but there was still some lingering resentment from their break-up. And Matthew, Ginny's fiancé, was a nice guy, but secretly, Hermione found him a bit boring. He came from an old wizarding family, and he tended to be too conservative for her taste. But, he had a good job with a steady income at the Ministry of Magic, and he played Quidditch in his free time, which kept him in good shape. Ginny adored him, and she couldn't wait for her wedding day to come along.

 _Maybe then she'll be normal again._ Hermione sighed internally. Maybe once the wedding was over, they could talk about other things again. Books, maybe, or movies. At least Ginny was one of the few among her Hogwarts friends who would watch a Muggle movie with her now and then, or join her in visiting an art gallery or a museum. Not lately, though. Hermione was getting really tired of hearing about Matthew's many virtues.

"So… I have another appointment at Floral Magic in Diagon Alley in an hour. Would you like to come along? You have such a good eye for colour arrangements." Ginny had been planning her wedding for months. Everything had to be perfect, down to the last pie filling or bridesmaid's robe.

Hermione shook her head. "I'd love to, but I'm meeting Draco at five. He wants to take me shopping." Secretly, she was glad to have an excuse. The whole wedding thing was seriously beginning to bore her.

"Oooooh!" Ginny rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion. "Yeah, I guess I wouldn't mind having fun with Mr Malfoy's credit card once in a while."

"Gin!" Hermione was torn between laughter and annoyance. "I'm not letting him pay for anything. He's just going to help me pick stuff."

 _Lingerie, to be exact._ She'd been surprised when he suggested it, and she still had mixed feelings about going with him. It was bound to be exciting, but…

"Oh. I'm sorry." Ginny didn't look particularly repentant. "But really, Hermione, you have to see how unfair it is. So many girls out there are looking for the wizard of their dreams, and you snatch away _two_ of the best on offer. I mean, Harry is a darling, for all his faults, and Draco has certainly changed for the better."

"I'm a lucky girl," Hermione confirmed, taking a big bite from her flaky pastry, closing her eyes in bliss.

"You are. And Harry is being pretty generous, I have to say." There was the tiniest hint of jealous resentment in Ginny's tone.

"Oh, he isn't just doing it out of the goodness of his heart. Trust me, he's getting plenty out of this." Hermione couldn't quite keep the edge out of her own voice. "I mean, it's not as if _I_ am the driving force behind this. Or the only one who's having fun."

"You mean… Oh!" Obviously it hadn't occurred to Ginny that Draco and Harry would be interested in each other as well. "I didn't know that Harry- But, that sounds… really sexy, actually." A wicked grin spread over her face. "Wow."

"No details. My lips are sealed." Hermione smiled back at her over the rim of her teacup, glad that their confidential camaraderie was back in place. "But yeah. They're hot together."

"I bet." Ginny sighed dreamily. "With all the tension and competition going on between the two of them, the air must practically sizzle. And I swear, Draco is getting more attractive with each passing year." A brief shadow crossed her face. "Though sometimes I do wonder, you know. He's still a Malfoy, after all. How you could even bring yourself to enter that house-"

"It's not that bad, Gin." Hermione hesitated. "Look, when he first invited us, I… I wasn't sure I wanted to go. I mean, setting foot into Malfoy Manor again, after all that happened there… Yes. I was worried." She hadn't told Harry, back then, because he would almost certainly have called the whole thing off, but it had been a stumbling block.

Hermione took a deep breath. "But then I realized… Look, Gin, we never talk about it much, but we all had horrible things happen to us, back then. You, me, Harry, and Draco, too. Voldemort's attack…" She ignored Ginny's pained grimace at the mention of the Dark Lord's name. "It left no one untouched, and we can't avoid every single place that carries bad memories. In a way, going there was almost a kind of therapy for me, you know, facing my fears."

"You're braver than I am, I guess." Ginny reached for her tea, still avoiding her gaze.

Hermione shook her head. "You'd have done the same. You still go back to Hogwarts, don't you, even though Fred-" She swallowed. "And anyway, it turned out it wasn't bad at all. The place is so huge that, in all the times I've been there, I’ve never even set foot in the rooms they took us to, back then. I think Draco had them converted into staff offices, anyway. He never uses that part of the house anymore, and the wing he lives in has been completely remodelled. It's a different place."

"Yes, but what about his father? And Narcissa? Does he expect you to… socialize with them?" Ginny's face carried an expression of heartfelt disgust.

Hermione shook her head. "He visits with his mother occasionally, I think. But after all, she's the one who saved Harry's life, remember? As for Lucius… I think Draco has no interest whatsoever in seeing him. They're not on good terms."

 _And that's putting it mildly._ Hermione knew Draco had never forgiven his father for allowing him to be branded with the Dark Mark at such a young age. He'd done what he could to have it removed, but he carried a nasty scar on his wrist, as a reminder of his father's expectations. Lucius, for his part, was still mad that he'd had to hand the Malfoy assets over to his son. But, the Wizengamot had been very clear on that point. No high-ranking Death Eater would be allowed to hold such power and influence again. It was only thanks to his youth and inexperience that Draco himself had been pardoned and allowed to keep his family's fortune.

"But what about the future?" Ginny was still looking serious. "I mean, what if you want kids? Or even just a nice wedding? You can't very well get married to both of them."

"Actually, there might be some provision made for polyamorous relationships under ancient wizarding law." Hermione hadn't been able to resist looking it up. "Though it's unclear whether that clause is still applicable."

"You're kidding, aren't you?" Ginny shook her head. "Just imagine what people would say!"

Hermione shrugged. "To be quite honest, it doesn't really matter, Gin. I've zero interest in marriage or kids right now. Maybe in a few years, but right now, my life is just too good."

It was true. She loved her job, she had no shortage of interesting hobbies, and, at 28, she still had plenty of time to start a family. Right now, she enjoyed the attentions of her two lovers far too much to complicate things with the addition of a baby and all that entailed. No, life was good just the way it was.

"Well, either way…" Ginny hesitated for a moment. "I want you to know that I would love to have you at my wedding, all three of you. If that's what you want."

Hermione was too surprised by the invitation to answer right away. _All three of us!_ But, were they really ready-

Her line of thought was interrupted by a sharp intake of breath from Ginny. "There he is. Draco Malfoy. Merlin, but he _is_ gorgeous… I guess I can't blame you, after all."

Draco was giving her a discreet little wave from the doorway, and Hermione smiled affectionately at him. Ginny was right. He looked positively mouth-watering, casually elegant in black tailored suit pants and a dark green shirt, his jacket thrown carelessly over his shoulder. His hair was artfully tousled, no longer slicked back in the severe manner he used to wear it at school, but still impeccably groomed. Hermione's heart skipped a beat.

Quickly, she got to her feet and kissed Ginny good-bye, aware that Draco wouldn't want to come over for a chat. "Thank you so much for the invitation, Gin. I appreciate it, I really do, and I'll let you know what we decide. And, thanks for a lovely afternoon."

"You, too." Ginny smiled back, adding a suggestive wink. "Have fun on your little shopping tour."

* * *

Draco was relieved when Hermione came over to join him. Some old habits were hard to get rid of, and the Weasley family were still not among his favourite people. Though Ginny was looking good these days, with her hair done properly, and a little make-up to freshen up her pale face. As long as he didn't have to deal with her brothers…

"Hey." Hermione breathed a kiss on his cheek, and he returned his full attention to her.

She was wearing a cute little sundress with polka dots and a pleated skirt, and he loved the way it showed off her slim waist and her shapely legs. "Hermione. You look lovely."

"Thank you." She favoured him with a sunny smile. "Where are we going?"

"A little shop in Mayfair." He placed a hand on her lower back, enjoying the feel of her warm skin through the thin fabric. "Blaise recommended it. He has a Muggle girlfriend these days, you know, and she loves the place."

 _She seems to be pretty adventurous, too, judging from his stories_. Draco smiled to himself. Who would have thought the Muggle world had so much to offer? The older generation of wizards had missed so much by walling themselves off from any contact with the non-magical community.

"I'm curious." Hermione tilted her head to look up at him, and he realized she was looking a little nervous. _Good_. It was nice to be in charge for once.

With a little careful apparating, they avoided the London rush hour traffic and arrived at the shop in no time at all. It was quiet and tasteful, with clothing racks scattered all over a well-decorated room, and intimate little alcoves hidden behind curtains for trying on the merchandise. A pretty girl inquired politely whether they needed help, and when they shook their heads, retreated to a chaise longue in the corner where she'd been sipping tea and leafing through a magazine. There were no other customers, so they were free to browse without being observed.

Hermione immediately headed for a table near the window that displayed various types of panties. Draco followed her, embracing her loosely from behind and glancing over her shoulder at the merchandise. Hermione's face was a little flushed, maybe because of his presence. But apart from that, she seemed quite at home in the shop, and she definitely had an eye for quality. From what he could see, the lace was handmade and the details were lovingly stitched onto the fabric.

"Hey, what do you think of these?" Draco pointed to a pair of dark green panties. "Look, they're even made from organic silk." He raised an eyebrow. "Sustainable production and all that. Don't you just love it?"

"No Slytherin green for me, thanks." Hermione made a face. "I do have my standards."

He accepted her rebuke with a grin. "Suit yourself. I don't think they'd look good in red and gold, though."

"Well, maybe we can settle for plain black?" She chewed thoughtfully on her lip, and he had to suppress a sudden urge to kiss her.

"Plain black is fine." His throat felt dry. "Maybe-" His eye fell on a particularly racy thong right in the middle of the table. "Try this one."

"Which one? Oh!" Hermione reached for it, a faint blush colouring her cheek. "You really think-"

"Try it on." Before she could protest, he'd dragged her off to one of the changing alcoves.

Quickly, she slipped out of her dress and panties and into the lacy nothing he handed her. Draco inhaled sharply at the sight of her. The thong had a slit down the back, and a small tulle flounce on top of it. Seeing it on her perfect ass-

"Does it look all right?" Hermione was straining her neck trying to see herself in the mirror.

"Wait." He quickly whipped out his phone.

It had been a present from Hermione for his birthday, a few weeks ago. He could still hear her voice, heavily laced with irony. _It's time you joined us in the 21 st century. _He had been a little annoyed, but he had to admit the thing was handy. He took a quick snapshot of her behind and showed it to her.

Her blush deepened. "You're sure-"

"Oh, yes." He didn't bother to hide the rasp in his voice. "It's perfect. And there's a matching bra, too. See?"

The bra was just as racy, made from sheer lace, with little buttons attached that allowed each cup to be opened separately for a teasing peek. And it fit perfectly over her pert little breasts. The mere sight made his mouth water.

"Well, all right then." Hermione briefly flinched, when she saw the price tag, but then she put her dress back on and started to head for the shop assistant, tucking the set firmly under her arm.

"Wait." Draco stopped her with a hand on her waist. "Look at this."

"Merlin!" Hermione seemed just as fascinated as he was by the display on the adjoining table.

"Hand-made thong," Draco read out in a subdued voice. "High quality lace and a double strand of Manacor pearls. "Oh my."

"How does this even- Oh!" Hermione giggled. "So the pearls go between…"

"Mmmhmmm." He ran a hand down her spine, keeping his touch as light as he could, revelling in her shiver. "That must feel… nice."

"Doubtlessly." Hermione swallowed. "But really, Draco, I can't afford both. We'll have to choose."

"But, I can pay for those." Draco picked the panties up, glancing at the price tag. They weren't nearly as expensive as he'd feared. _Artificial pearls, probably_. "It's fine."

"No, it's not!" Hermione shook her head, her lips set in a determined line. "I told you I'd pay for everything myself. I won't let you-"

"What if it was a birthday gift?" He gave her his best pleading look. "Birthday gifts are allowed, aren't they?"

"For me?" Hermione laughed. "Draco, it's almost two months until my birthday."

"No, not for you. For Harry." He pulled her closer again, whispering in her ear. "You could wear the pearls all day long on his birthday. And at night, when we get together…"

The shudder running through her body was answer enough. Quickly, they paid and left the shop together. But, when he took her hand and pulled her toward a quiet alley in preparation for apparating, she shook her head.

"I really need to get home. Sorry, Draco. I do have a cartload of work to do, and Harry probably won't be back before midnight." In answer to his frustrated sigh, she got on tiptoes and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. "Have a lovely evening."

He followed her with his eyes as she sauntered off toward the nearest underground station, a knowing smile playing around her lips. _Smug little bitch._ He was sure she knew exactly what state she'd left him in.

As soon as he got home, he withdrew to his room, locking the door behind him, snarling at the house elves that he was tired and needed some rest. It was the work of a moment to throw off his clothes and slip between the silky sheets of his four-poster, sighing with relief as his hand closed around his hard cock. He stroked himself once, rough and fast, but then he paused. _No._ He was going to take his time and enjoy this.

On impulse, he fished his trousers from the chair and dug in his pocket for the phone, moaning when the screen sprang to life and his eyes fell on the picture he'd taken at the shop. Hermione's firm, taut flesh, framed by the black lace, the slit in the middle begging him to run his fingers down it... He'd been hard before, but now he felt ready to burst. Even the touch of his own hand was almost too much.

With a sigh, he reached for the bottle of lubricant he kept in his nightstand, applying a generous amount to his palm. _Yes. Better_. His hand was gliding up and down smoothly now, warm and moist, and it was easy to imagine he was inside her, pushing deeper with each thrust, her walls massaging him, tight and hot around him… _Merlin!_ Once again, he had to pause, because he didn't want this to be over too soon.

Taking deep breaths, he reached for the lube again, slicking up the fingers of his other hand. His fantasy quickly grew even more elaborate. Suddenly, Harry was there, too, running a hand down his spine while he was fucking Hermione, sliding it between his legs, cupping his balls. He tugged gently, moaning because it felt so good, and then slid his finger further back, imagining it was Harry's, touching him, probing gently, just like he had done the last time they had made love. It had felt good, so good, when Harry had caressed him _there_ , and he did his best to mimic the motion, teasing inside just the tiniest bit while his other hand moved faster on his cock, faster and faster, so good, so hot, so amazingly, mind-blowingly perfect…

He came so hard he spilled all over his own chest, so hard he actually shouted out loud, so hard he was still shaking by the time he recovered his wits enough to clean up and put on fresh clothes for dinner. As he headed downstairs, his head was spinning with possibilities. _Only three more days till Harry's birthday._ He had so many ideas.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Hermione dropped her shopping bags on the kitchen counter with a satisfied smile. She'd thoroughly plundered both Selfridge's food department and the little magical delicatessen in Diagon Alley, and the bags were stuffed to the brim with Harry's favourite foods. Normally, she would have cringed at the idea of spending so much money on a single meal, but he deserved some special treats for his birthday, and she knew better than to attempt making dinner herself. That would mean spending several hours in the kitchen, and probably ending up with a rich, heavy meal. In her experience, neither was particularly conducive to romance. And romance was definitely on the menu tonight.

She quickly set the table for three and put a bottle of light Chardonnay into the fridge, then made her way to the bedroom to dress up. Draco had helped her pick a dress for tonight, the same slinky black one she'd worn on their first night together. Hermione smiled at the thought. It made her happy that Draco was so intent on making Harry's birthday special. She'd told him a bit about Harry's childhood with the Dursleys, and he'd been appalled. Being the sole heir to the Malfoy fortune and the single focus of his parents' ambitions hadn't been a picnic either, but Harry had definitely had it worse.

Stepping out of her skirt, Hermione caught a glance of herself in the mirror and shivered. The pearl thong looked sinfully sexy, but that was nothing compared to what it had done to her all day long. Ever since she'd gotten dressed this morning, not a single minute had gone by without her being aware of it: the subtle pressure of the pearls against her core when she sat down, the way they'd slid across her flesh when she moved, riling her up, promising a fulfilment that never came… It had been a challenge to get any work done at all.

The tiny bell over the fireplace announced that someone had floo'ed in. _Harry or Draco?_ She popped her head around the corner to check.

"Hey there!" Harry smiled at her, his whole face lighting up at the sight of her. "Am I allowed to look?"

"Not yet." She blew him a kiss. "But you can go to the kitchen and open the wine for us. Draco should be here in a minute."

He nodded without another word, but there was no mistaking the look of happy anticipation on his face. He had been working so hard lately, and they hadn't spent nearly enough time together. Hermione enjoyed being with Draco, but she had missed Harry. _My love._ While she took care of her hair and make-up, her mind wandered back to the day she'd met him again, just after her return to London.

She'd been browsing the shelves of a small book store, giggling internally at some of the more esoteric titles: _The Secrets of Erotic Magic; Awakening Your Inner Witch; The Scarlet Wand; Sex, Drugs, and Magic._ If Muggles only knew…

_"Hermione? Is that you?" She'd have recognized that voice anywhere._

_"Harry!" She swivelled around, too surprised for a more articulate response._

_She was smiling like an idiot, though, because it felt so incredibly good to see him again. Hermione hadn't even realized how much she'd missed him. For one thing, she'd been busy with her studies. Her name might have opened some doors for her, but one didn't get to finish a degree in Care of Magical Books at the Académie de la Science Occulte just by being famous. It had taken plenty of hard work and dedication. And then there had been all the other distractions Paris had to offer, galleries and cafés, and the blue eyes of a gorgeous young wizard called Nicolas._

_After that, she'd gone on to other places, other loves, but all of that was forgotten the moment Harry's arms wrapped around her and he pulled her into a tight hug. She laughed with delight because it was so good to be with him again, so natural. And at the same time-_

_"Merlin, Harry, you've grown up quite a bit!" Hermione didn't bother to keep the awe out of her voice._

_True, he was still not particularly tall, just about her own height, but he must have worked out and he had… changed. His shoulders were wider, and his chest tapered down nicely to a slim waist, emphasized by the tight T-shirt he was wearing. He was better dressed, too, and the glasses were gone, replaced by contacts. He was still holding her, and he felt nice and strong, and he smelled good, and, wait a minute, was she crushing on_ Harry _?_

_Taking a step back, he cleared his throat, and when he met her gaze again, there was something new in his eyes, something she'd never seen there before. "You, too. You look lovely."_

_They went for a coffee together, to talk and catch up, but she only half paid attention to what he was saying, because her mind was racing, trying to understand her reaction to him. They'd always been just friends. Even back when they'd shared a tent, during their search for the Horcrux, it had been as chaste as it could be. Well, except maybe for that one dance… But, even if she'd felt a stirring of interest back then, she'd quickly suppressed it, because he was with Ginny, and she hadn't quite given up hope that things would work out with Ron._

_None of that mattered anymore. Harry was so_ different _from the boy she'd known back then. He'd grown more confident, more sure of himself, and obviously far better at the whole flirting thing. He made her laugh, made her feel pretty and sexy, and when he took her home to her flat at the end of the day, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to kiss him good-bye._

And that one kiss had changed everything. Hermione still blushed at the recollection.

_She'd only meant to kiss him lightly, quickly, but the moment their lips touched, he tensed up all over, and she simply couldn't resist. A flick of her tongue against his lips was enough to make him moan, to make him deepen the kiss, tasting her with a hunger that threw her completely off balance. He pulled her close enough to feel him, already hard against her thigh, and her head was spinning madly._

_"Harry…" She pulled him into the flat with her, firmly shutting the door behind them. "Stay with me. Please."_

_"Are you sure?" His eyes looked so dark, and the expression in them almost made her moan. "I mean, we've only just met again, and-"_

_She felt a laugh bubbling up inside her. "Gosh, Harry, there's no one I know better than you. Please. Kiss me again."_

They'd ended up making out wildly on the couch, and when he'd come in her hands, with a long, heaving shudder, she'd known that this was it.

This was love.

They had spent several nights together after that first encounter, kissing, making love, and just talking, for what felt like hours. While she'd been abroad, Harry had stayed in London, but he'd engaged in quite a bit of experimentation himself. He had been very open about his encounters both with men and women during that time. From what he'd said, he'd always been curious about both, and Hermione strongly suspected that this had been a major factor in his decision to break up with Ginny.

Hermione didn't really mind. She probably would have, before Paris, but she'd had a number of rather enlightening experiences herself there.

"Hey." Draco's voice tore her out of her memories. He was standing in the doorway, his eyes caressing her all over. "Is he home?"

She nodded, getting up and walking toward him. "Yes. I sent him to the kitchen."

"You look amazing." Draco embraced her with a knowing smile. "How does it feel?" His voice was low and dark in her ear.

"I…" She caught his gaze, and suddenly she felt bold. "I've been wet all day long. I don't think I can wait much longer."

Draco actually groaned aloud. Hermione wasn't in the habit of talking like this, but seeing the effect it had on him, feeling him go taut in her arms, she wondered whether she shouldn't invest more effort into her dirty talking skills.

"Come." Draco dragged her to the kitchen, greeting Harry with a long, hungry kiss. "Happy birthday, Harry."

Just watching them made her knees go weak. Hermione had no idea how she got through the meal, because the tingle between her legs had turned into an insistent throbbing by now. It was no wonder, really. Between the pearls and her memories of making love to Harry and the sight of two immensely delectable men kissing right in front of her, any girl would have lost the use of her higher brain functions.

When they finally made it to the bedroom, she was soaked, aching for them, either of them, she didn't even care any longer. But, she wasn't the only one who was getting impatient.

As soon as they were in sight of the bed, Draco sat down on the edge of it and pulled her into his arms, spinning her around, so he could slide down her zipper. "Harry. Aren't you eager to unwrap your present?"

Harry smiled. Of course he knew her well enough to recognize the state she was in, even if he had no clue as to why she was so worked up. "Why don't you do it for me?"

Draco made a small strangled noise and pushed the dress down, revealing what she was wearing underneath.

Harry's eyes widened as he noticed the pearls. "Have you been wearing that all day long?"

She nodded, unable to speak. Behind her, Draco undressed quickly, then pulled her into his lap, spreading her legs gently. He was rock hard against her back, but she knew he would wait. This was for Harry.

Harry swallowed and quickly shucked off his own clothes. He was hard and ready, too, his cock emerging proudly from its nest of dark curls. Dropping to his knees before her, he groaned at the sight of her, all opened up for him, with the two strands of pearls glistening between her folds.

"Hold her for me, Draco." There was an edge to his voice that went straight to her core.

And then his mouth was on her, and his tongue was playing with the pearls, lapping, sucking, teasing, until she was past all shame. "Harry. _Please_! Now."

He didn't actually remove the thong, just carefully arranged the pearls on both sides, then pushed slowly inside her. And it was the most incredible feeling, because as soon as he started to move, the pearls slid against her clit, tugging on her sensitive flesh and driving her completely insane. Every stroke of his made them press against new spots, and at the same time, _he_ was there, inside her, filling her so deliciously it was almost too much to bear.

Before she knew it, she was keening and thrashing wildly in Draco's firm hold. When her orgasm hit her, she screamed with relief, her nails digging deep into his arms. She was immensely grateful for his steadying presence at her back because it felt as if she was falling, hurtling down, tumbling over the edge at breakneck speed.

Harry was just as far gone, trembling all over as he finished inside her, hiding his face against her shoulder and whining with the intensity of it. "'Mione. I love you so much."

* * *

Draco was half mad with desire by the time Hermione and Harry had finished. Holding her so tightly to his body meant that he had felt every wiggle of Hermione's body against his own erection, every single one of Harry's thrusts, and he couldn't really help imagining that it was him in her place, and Harry-

He swallowed. For all their adventures so far, they hadn't really gone there. Draco knew Harry was quite a bit more experienced than him, especially when it came to sex with men, but there had been no pressure. And, he himself wasn't quite sure what he wanted. Not yet.

Hermione was still panting, but Harry had pulled back and was looking at him with that particular gleam in his eyes that meant he wasn't done with them. "What do you say, Draco? Shall we give her another one?"

"It's your party." His heart was beating wildly and he was so hard it _hurt_. "Whatever you want, Harry."

"Whatever I want. Be careful what you say." Harry's lips twitched, but then he grew serious again.

With one swift move, he pulled the thong off, leaving Hermione completely naked. She whined softly, but Harry wasn't even looking at her. He had locked eyes with Draco, and he was speaking slowly, in a firm, assured tone.

"Lie back. Further up on the bed."

Draco complied. He could _feel_ Harry's gaze on his naked body, hot and hungry, and it made goose bumps rise on his skin.

"Hermione?" Harry shot her a quick glance.

She had obviously recovered a bit, and she looked as if she was enjoying every moment of this little scene. When Harry motioned for her to get on the bed with Draco, she obeyed willingly, bending down to let her lips brush against his cock. His hips bucked up involuntarily and she laughed softly.

"No." Harry's voice had a steely undertone now. "You will lie still, Draco. And you…" He turned his attention to Hermione. "I want to see you ride him. Go on. He's all yours."

Draco felt as if all the blood had left his brain forever. When Hermione sank down on him, it took all his control not to grab her, not to move, because it felt so incredibly amazing. She was wet, soaking wet, and some part of his brain supplied the information that Harry had just come inside her. He groaned at the thought, shivering with arousal.

And then he was all the way inside her, deep inside, and she was moaning, clenching around him, rubbing herself against him, and he just couldn't keep still, couldn't- With a stifled groan, he jerked upward, hard and sudden.

"Keep still!" A heavy weight settled on his thighs, and he realized it was Harry, holding him down with his knees, embracing Hermione from behind and taking hold of her hips. "Move," he whispered into her ear. "Draco needs you to move."

Draco's muscles were straining against Harry's hold, but there was nothing he could do, and the knowledge did things to him he couldn't explain. Hermione sighed, rolling her hips once in a perfect circle, and it was all he could do not to come straight away.

Harry chuckled at his pained expression. "Think of flesh-eating slugs," he suggested dryly. "Works like a charm for me."

"Oh, yuck, Harry!" He made a face, but yeah, it actually helped a little.

Harry lifted Hermione up, eager to help her find a rhythm. She wiggled a little, until she'd found the perfect angle, and then shook Harry's hands off with an impatient huff. But, she kept moving, and it felt good, so very good.

"Her breasts." Harry's voice again, stern and unyielding.

Draco obeyed without thinking, cupping each perfect breast in one hand, teasing her taut nipples with his thumbs until she was _mewling_.

"Good." Harry sounded warm and approving, and it was the best thing ever. "Now, you may move." He let go of Draco's legs.

Once again, Draco's mind went blank, and this time he knew there would be no going back. Every fibre of his being was screaming for his release, every muscle in his body went taut as he thrust up, and he had just about enough presence of mind to reach between Hermione's legs, in an effort to take her with him.

But, Harry's hand was already there, dancing lightly over her flesh, and only moments later, she was screaming hoarsely again and he finally gave in, pouring himself inside her, his whole body buzzing with blessed relief.

* * *

Hermione rolled off Draco's body, dropping onto her back next to him. Harry had to hold back a chuckle at the sight of his two lovers, both spent and tousled and exhausted. He had no complaints whatsoever about his birthday present, that much was certain.

Draco was panting so hard Harry could see his flanks rise and fall. _So beautiful_. He put his hand on his stomach to calm him, and Draco looked at him gratefully.

"Merlin, Harry, that was-" He sounded shaky. "I'm _buzzing_. I don't even know why it was so good, but-"

Hermione yawned and stretched, a smug expression on her face. "You don't? Isn't it obvious?"

"Yeah?" Draco threw her a dark glance. "Not to me."

"I really don't think it's that hard to see." Hermione was using her best patronizing tone, something that had become rare nowadays, but never failed to raise Harry's hackles. And Draco's, apparently.

Harry did his best to signal for her to stop, but she ignored him. "Well, look at you. Obviously, you like it when Harry tells you what to do."

Harry flinched. He had noticed it as well, of course, but he rather doubted Draco wanted it spelled out like this.

"I absolutely do not." Draco sounded almost angry. "I don't need anyone to tell me what to do. Not in bed and nowhere else either. And the last person-"

"Draco." Harry placed a careful hand on his arm, and was glad to feel him relax a bit. "Can I say something?"

Draco nodded, but he still looked stubborn and offended.

Harry sighed. "Look, I think 'Mione may be on to something." He raised his hand to silence Draco's protest. "Maybe she isn't. Maybe we're on the wrong track, and I swear I won't even think of doing it again if you don't want me to. But, remember…" He took a deep breath. "This is about sex, nothing else. I certainly don't propose to take over the rest of your life for you. All I'm saying is, if you enjoy me being in charge now and then, I can do that for you. Gladly."

Draco opened his mouth as if to contradict, but then he hesitated, his gaze dropping to Harry's hand around his wrist. "I… might enjoy that. Now and then." His voice was almost too low to be heard.

Hermione beamed at his words, but had the sense to stay silent.

"Well, then." Harry loosened his grip and let his hand slowly trail upward, bending forward to kiss Draco. "Let's see what we can come up with, shall we?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Hermione yawned contentedly, sipping carefully from her steaming mug of strong coffee. As far as she was concerned, Sunday mornings didn't get any better than this. The sun was shining through the window, painting striped patterns on the floor, the smell of food and coffee filled the air, and the radio was playing softly in the background. Harry was standing at the stove, preparing scrambled eggs for all three of them, while Draco was lounging on a kitchen chair, idly leafing through the Daily Prophet. Both of them were in their pyjama pants only, and she was definitely enjoying the view.

Hitching up the long faded t-shirt she wore in place of a nightgown, she made herself comfortable on the counter, wiggling her toes contentedly. Draco put the paper aside with a yawn and smiled at her. In one fluid, graceful movement, he was on his feet and stepped between her legs, pulling her close for a long, lazy kiss. Harry glanced over at them affectionately as he poured the beaten eggs into the pan.

“So… Any plans for today?” Draco nibbled playfully on her earlobe. “Should I stay a little longer or-”

Hermione slapped her forehead with her hand. "Oh shit, I completely forgot. Ginny said she'd come over at eleven." She'd also forgotten something else, it dawned on her. "Aaaaand, did I mention that she's invited all three of us to her wedding?"

“What do you mean, all three of us?” Draco stiffened in her arms. “Are you actually suggesting what I think you are?”

“Look, I haven't said yes or no yet.” Hermione could have slapped herself for bringing the topic up without proper introduction. “Obviously, we need to talk about it.”

“What is there to talk about?” Draco looked annoyed. “Why would I even consider showing up at a _Weasley_ wedding? Not to mention the fact-“

“Why?” Hermione felt her own temper heat up as well. “Because it's really sweet of her to do this, that's why. And-“

“Look, guys, could you calm down for a moment?” Harry lifted the pan in a gesture of comical despair. “I agree that we need to talk about this, but it's ten to eleven, and none of us is dressed, and our breakfast is getting cold." He was interrupted by the sound of the floo bell. “Shit. She's early.”

There was a tap at the door, and Ginny’s bright, friendly voice rang out as she burst into the room. “Morning, everyone. I brought some muffins. And I thought… Oh!”

It was more than obvious that Ginny hadn't expected the tableau that awaited her, or indeed expected to see Draco at all. But she recovered remarkably quickly. “Draco. How nice to see you.”

“Ginny.” Draco nodded curtly. He'd let go of Hermione and taken a step backward when the bell had rung, but he was still bare-chested, and while he had nothing whatsoever to hide, he was obviously uncomfortable.

“Gosh, Gin, I'm sorry we aren't really presentable.” Hermione felt a blush rise to her cheeks. “Do sit down. Breakfast is as good as ready, right, Harry?”

She quickly busied herself setting out a plate and cutlery for Ginny, who, to give her credit, didn't make a fuss about the whole thing. Actually, she seemed amused to have caught them in such an intimate setting. She accepted her share of the scrambled eggs with a smile, and they all ate quietly, only interrupted by a few platitudes about the weather and the weekend’s Quidditch results.

Hermione had almost begun to relax again when Ginny leaned back in her chair and gave her a sly look. “So… Have you decided what to do about my wedding yet? Will you be there, all three of you?”

Her words were greeted with stony silence by Draco. Hermione could _feel_ the waves of tension emanating from him.

Harry cleared his throat. “Actually, we’re not sure yet. We-“

“We need to think about it,” Hermione cut in. “Discuss whether we want everyone to know, and how to tell them-“

"And what exactly are you going to tell them?” Draco broke his silence, his tone sharp and aggressive. “That you live with Harry, but fuck us both?"

Hermione saw Ginny flinch at Draco’s deliberate crudeness, but she didn't care. It hurt to see him lash out like this, but it hurt her more on his behalf than her own. If this was hard for her and Harry, it had to be doubly hard for him.

She took a deep breath. _Actually, I was going to tell them I love you both._ The words were on the tip of her tongue, but Draco was already on his feet, snarling at her, his face contorted with anger. "Face it, Granger. None of them wants to hear that their precious Gryffindor princess has turned into a dirty little slut."

Turning away from them, he headed for the door and walked out, slamming it behind him. Harry shook his head quietly, and began putting away the dishes.

"Ouch! Is he always such an asshole?" Ginny looked genuinely shocked.

Hermione shook her head. "He's not an asshole. He just ... Sometimes he accidentally defaults to the way he used to behave at school." _Mostly when he doesn't know how else to behave._

With a sigh, she got up and headed for the bedroom. "I’d better talk to him." _At least he hasn’t disapparated straight away._

She found Draco sitting on the bed's edge, looking up at her with a look that was equal parts fury and embarrassment. When she climbed up on the bed and gently embraced him from behind, his head sank back against her shoulder and he closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry." He sounded resigned. "I shouldn't have… But I don't think I can do this, Hermione. The mere thought of a horde of Weasleys staring at me in silent disapproval…”

Hermione refrained from pointing out that silent disapproval was an unlikely reaction to expect from any member of the Weasley family. "Shhh." She gently smoothed out the angry lines on his forehead with her finger. "I'm sorry to have sprung this on you. Relax."

* * *

Harry and Ginny stayed behind in the kitchen. Harry couldn't even recall the last time he'd been alone with her. The day they'd broken up, probably. Ginny seemed unsure of what to say, and he couldn't blame her. Witnessing a scene like this had to be embarrassing. He also noticed that she rather pointedly avoided looking at his bare chest.

“I'm sorry, Ginny. This is all such a mess.” He sighed. "Why does it have to be so complicated?"

"Yeah, well. It's bad enough to work this kind of stuff out with two people. With three…" Ginny shrugged. “I mean, we managed to mess things up when it was only the two of us, didn't we?”

Her tone made him pause. “We… Ginny, please tell me you're not blaming yourself for the mistakes we made ten years ago! We weren't even twenty. You can't possibly think-“

“I know.” Ginny smiled at him, but her smile was forced. “It's just that…” She suddenly looked very vulnerable, almost lost. "Why didn’t you ever tell me, Harry?"

"Tell you what?" He frowned, unsure what to make of this.

Ginny avoided his gaze. "That you like guys." She sounded wistful. "We could have-"

_Oh!_ Harry shook his head decisively. “No! Merlin, Ginny, we were kids! I had… all kinds of feelings, and no idea what to do with them. I wasn't even sure if it was just a phase. There was no way we could have sorted this out back then."

“Still, if I'd known…” Ginny’s voice trailed off, but then she shook herself and raised her head. “Anyway, I don't really think you need to worry quite so much. I can't imagine any of our friends and family giving you a hard time because of this.”

“You think?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “If it was only about me being gay or bi, you might be right. But do you honestly think your mother would approve of our little _ménage à trois_ here?” He shuddered as he imagined Molly Weasley’s reaction. “She's barely forgiven me for breaking up with you, and only because she thinks Matt is such a catch. It took her long enough to be okay with ‘Mione and me being together. Adding _Draco Malfoy_ to the equation? She'd go ballistic.”

“If you put it like that…” Ginny made a face. “But I can deal with her. And the others-“

“I'm not worried about our friends.” Well, yes, he was, but Harry was no coward, and he was ready to face their reactions. “But what if someone talks and the press gets wind of it? I can just about imagine what Rita Skeeter would make of this.” He laughed, but it wasn't really funny. “She'd probably suggest Draco has put me under an Imperius curse so he could have his way with my girlfriend. The perfect headline: ‘Cheating on the Chosen One'.” He shook himself disgustedly. “Honestly, I can't blame Draco if he wants to avoid that.”

“True.” Ginny got to her feet and reached for her bag. “Well, let me know when you've made up your mind. I guess I'd better leave now. Sorry for spoiling your Sunday.”

“Not your fault.” He kissed her chastely on the cheek.

He was at the bedroom door the moment she was gone.

* * *

Draco gradually felt the tension drain away under the gentle pressure of Hermione's fingers massaging his neck and shoulders. The idea of showing up at the Weasley wedding with Harry and Hermione had scared the crap out of him. There was simply no way he could tell the whole world that he was sleeping with his former archenemies, no matter how he felt about them nowadays.

_Archenemies_. He almost laughed at his own thoughts. Such a childish expression. Looking back at their school days now, he could clearly see how much he had been fascinated by them, even then. But, they had been on the _other_ side, the one he'd been taught to despise since he was a toddler. And even now, he couldn't quite free himself from the habit. The mere thought of what his Slytherin friends would say made him break out in a cold sweat. Not to mention his parents… A Malfoy sleeping with a Mudblood and with _Potter_! His father would go through the roof.

He was torn out of his thoughts when Harry appeared at the door. "She's left." He came in, closing the door behind him, and knelt down in front of Draco, regarding him with a worried frown. "Are you okay?"

Draco nodded, unwilling to speak, and pulled Harry in for a kiss. Behind him, Hermione's breathing sped up, and her hands became more insistent, less gentle and more demanding as she let them wander lower on his chest. When her nails grazed against his nipples, he groaned sharply.

Harry pulled back with a knowing smile, placing both hands on his thighs, exerting just enough pressure to make him moan again. Slowly, languorously, they both began working their way all over his body, with soft teasing caresses, until, after what seemed like an eternity, their hands met at his crotch. Without being asked, Draco tilted his hips so Harry could pull down his pyjama pants.

The two of them followed suit, and then he was naked between their warm bodies, wrapped up in their touch, and it was the best feeling ever, like being in a warm, safe cocoon. Only, this particular cocoon was very intent on getting him off, and within minutes he was so worked up he could hardly bear their touch any more.

Hermione made a small, impatient noise when he pushed her hand away, but he had to stop her if he wanted to last. He pulled her firmly on his lap so he could focus on her breasts. And he did so with enthusiasm, playing with her pebbled nipples, sucking and biting and licking, until her hands clenched hard in his hair. A quick glance told him Harry wasn't idle either, opening her up with gentle fingers, caressing her clit until she was writhing between them.

“Draco! Stop.” Holding on to his shoulders, Hermione caught his gaze as she lowered herself down on him, taking him all in.

He watched her face as he filled her slowly, loving the way she bit her lip at the intrusion, entranced by the small noise she made when he was fully settled inside her. She felt incredibly good around him, hot and tight, but when she rolled her hips, he shook his head. This time he needed to be on top. Lying down, he rolled over with her in one smooth motion, then propped himself up on his hands and began to move.

Harry joined them on the bed, his hands wandering all over them, teasing and caressing. It was nice, more than nice, but when he settled behind him, heavy against his back, his erection nudging against him, Draco tensed all over, suddenly unable to go on.

"Draco?" Harry sounded concerned.

He managed to twist around far enough he could kiss Harry. "I… Not yet, Harry. Someday, but not yet."

Harry's face lit up in a warm smile. "Hey, it’s fine. Don't worry." He slid off Draco's body, but stayed right next to him, catching his mouth in another long kiss.

Draco would never have admitted it, but he adored the way Harry kissed him when they were making love, open-mouthed, greedy kisses that were pure sex. Hermione didn't seem to mind that they were kissing right in front of her, while he was moving inside her, his hips rolling deeply against her. If anything, she seemed to enjoy it. And he couldn't get enough, of Harry, of her, of both of them. He came just like that, with Hermione's heat around his cock and her nails digging into his skin, Harry's hungry mouth on his, Harry's warm hand on his lower back, and it was the best thing ever, hot and sweet and perfect.

He felt a little guilty afterwards, though. "Hermione?" Draco was pretty sure she hadn't come yet.

But, Harry made a low, dismissive noise in his throat and simply shoved him aside, taking his place, pushing deep inside her in one single stroke. Hermione's head fell back and she whined softly. Draco couldn't quite suppress a faint sting of envy. Harry was the teensiest bit thicker than him, but as sensitive as she was now, it seemed to make all the difference. Or maybe it was just the thought of having them both, one right after the other.

Instinctively, he tried to move away to give them space, but Harry wouldn't have it. Wrapping his right arm around Draco, he pulled him close, so close they could kiss again, so close he felt every move they made, breathed in the scent of their arousal, heard every little sigh and gasp. It was mind-blowingly hot, and by the time they finished, crying out and going taut next to him, he was just about ready to go again.

Harry was panting hard, eyes closed in bliss. “Merlin, yes. That's better.”

Hermione made a small, affirmative noise, then glanced down at Draco's crotch, her eyes widening. Gently, she wrapped her fingers around his half-hard cock. "You wanted to know about our plans for today? Well, it seems to me you're not leaving any time soon."

He closed his eyes, surrendering himself to her caresses with a deep sigh. _No. Not if I have any say in it._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The next week went by in a flash, and when they met on Friday night for dinner at Grimmauld Place, they were all happy to see each other again. Harry had made a chicken and ham pie, to the original Hogwarts recipe, and the familiar taste and smell was comforting.

Draco seemed to appreciate it, too, looking happy and relaxed for once. He wouldn't be able to spend the night, since his mother was staying at Malfoy Manor for a weekend visit, but he had snuck away for a few hours to be with them. Hermione was thankful for this moment of peaceful domesticity. They all needed it after last week's emotional turmoil.

By the time dessert was served and they were all busy savouring the rhubarb crumble, Hermione felt it was safe to broach the topic of the wedding again.

"So… about Ginny's invitation-"

She hadn't gotten any farther when Draco interrupted her, his face closing up in annoyance. “Again? Can't we just leave it be?" He sneered contemptuously at her. "Honestly, Hermione why do you want to tell all the world about us? There's no need. I mean, this is just sex, right?”

For a moment, she honestly didn't know what to answer. His words hurt, more than she could say. After all those months, after the warm and cosy dinner they'd just shared…

But before she could think of a suitable reply, Harry had already jumped to his feet. His chair clattered to the floor with a deafening noise, and his fist hit the table hard enough to make the plates rattle. “Damn it, Draco!”

Draco's eyes widened in shock, and Hermione couldn't blame him. She honestly couldn't remember the last time she had seen Harry so furious.

“How about you try to stop lying to yourself, just this once? Is that so difficult?” Harry was breathing hard. “Look, I don't really know myself what it is we've got here, and I certainly won't force you to commit to anything before you're ready for it. But you know damn well that this isn't _just sex_. Don't you?”

Draco didn't answer. Obviously he hadn't expected this kind of reaction from Harry either. They had never talked much about their feelings, just enjoyed their time together without ever spelling out what made them come back for more. Draco, especially, wasn't really given to protestations of love. Hermione knew he cared, because it was glaringly obvious from his behaviour, but as for actually saying it… He was deathly pale now, and his eyes were fixed on a speck of dirt on the floor, as if it was the most fascinating thing in the universe.

“ _Don't_ you?” Harry's voice was sharp as steel, and it finally shook Draco out of his trance.

“I…” He rubbed his eyes, hiding behind his hands, and when he moved them away, he looked weary beyond words. “You're right. It's more. It's more and it… it scares me, okay? I need more time."

Hermione bit her lip, looking down at her shaking hands. Was he ever going to change? Would he ever get around to admitting his feelings? She'd come to care for him so much in the past few months, but right now, she just felt angry.

But then a warm hand settled over hers, and when she looked up, she found herself face to face with Draco, his beautiful grey eyes earnestly gazing into hers. "I'm really sorry," he repeated. "Don't expect so much of me, please. I just… I need to figure this out for myself, and then maybe…”

Harry's fists unclenched slowly, deliberately. “All right. So we’ll go to the wedding without you. But, we will sort this out together, you hear me? Because it's important. You are important.”

“Harry…” Draco was swallowing hard, and Hermione couldn't stop herself from putting her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. Harry joined them, holding them tight, until they stopped shaking.

They finished their meal in silence, but when Draco left, he embraced both of them tightly, kissing them with an almost desperate intensity.

“Let’s have an early night.” Harry looked stressed, too. “I'm knackered.”

Hermione couldn't have agreed more.

* * *

When Draco arrived at the Manor, he was still reeling with the impact of the scene that had played out at Grimmauld Place. There was no way he could go to sleep like this, so he headed for the library to pour himself a generous glass of Firewhisky. As the liquid burned hotly down his throat, he closed his eyes in bliss. He was just debating whether he should have another one when a low chuckle behind him made him swivel around, wand drawn and ready, as he fell into a defensive stance.

"Relax, Draco. You don't want to kill me with that mighty wand of yours, do you?" The voice with its suggestive purr was familiar, as was the tinkling laugh that followed the words.

Muttering a curse under his breath, Draco lowered the wand, glaring at the young woman sitting in a shadowy corner, her feet curled up on the seat of a heavy leather armchair. "Astoria. What are you doing here?"

Astoria got up and walked toward him, her hips swinging seductively. She was wearing a short nightdress and an equally short robe over it, both made from burgundy silk. The colour flattered her, went well with her dark eyes and hair. And her legs… Merlin, they went on forever, and Draco couldn't help the images that assaulted him: those legs, wrapped around his torso; her heels digging into his back; her voice crying out his name. He shook himself to banish the memory.

"Your mother invited me over for the weekend." Astoria gave him an impish smile as she took the wand from his hands and placed it on the table. "She seems to think we should… renew our acquaintance."

Draco sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He and Astoria had dated for almost a year. Narcissa had adored her, and both his parents had had high hopes that he would marry her. And, to tell the truth, it had been a close call.

Astoria would have made the ideal wife for a Malfoy. A pure-blood witch, well-bred and haughty, from a family that would have satisfied even his father's standards. The Greengrasses had been Slytherins for almost as long as the Malfoys, though they had never openly sided with the Dark Lord. It didn't hurt that Astoria was gorgeous, tall and brunette, with cool green eyes and perfect skin. Or that she had turned out to be anything but cold in bed. Yes, Draco had come very close to proposing. He'd been completely smitten by her for a while. No one had understood it when he'd ended their relationship, not his parents, not Astoria. He wasn't quite sure he understood it himself.

He did his best to cover up his confusion with a haughty smile. "Well, if Mother wants you here, I certainly won't object. But really, my dear, haven't we been there and done that? We both know it's over, and I don't think-"

"Aw, come on, Draco. Don't be mad at me. I've missed you." Astoria made a soft, clucking noise, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "Gosh, you look tired. Your mother is right. You work too much."

Draco took a step back, shaking off her touch. "True. Which is why I'm going to go to bed now. Good night, Astoria."

She laughed softly, throwing her head back to display the perfect smooth column of her throat. "Good night, Draco. Sweet dreams. I will see you at breakfast tomorrow."

He nodded stiffly and quickly retreated to his room, cursing his mother for her meddling.

When he came down for breakfast the next morning, both his mother and Astoria were already up, both of them immaculately coiffed and made up. He almost smiled at how similar they looked, both beautiful in a remote, distant way, the only difference in their colouring. Even their voices sounded the same, cool and cultivated, with perfect upper class accents. _But, that's just it, isn't it?_ What man would wish to marry an exact copy of his mother?

"Good morning, mother. Astoria." He inclined his head in a polite greeting, then walked over to the sideboard to fill his plate before taking his seat at the table.

"Draco." His mother was smiling radiantly. "I hope you don't mind that I invited Astoria over the weekend. I ran into her at her mother's luncheon last week, and she told me she missed the Manor so much."

"I bet she did." No matter how hard he tried, Draco couldn't keep the sharp edge out of his voice. He was willing to bet Astoria had always been more in love with the Malfoy name and the possessions that came attached to it than with him.

He chided himself for his unkind thought immediately. There was no point in blaming Astoria for what she was. Of course she'd have loved being Mrs Malfoy, of course she'd have appreciated the wealth and prestige that came with marrying him. And of course she'd do her best to make that dream come true, even now.

"I thought we might go for a walk later on." Astoria carefully avoided his gaze, keeping her tone light and casual. "I wonder… Is that little pavilion by the lake still there? Such a charming place, especially when the roses are in bloom. I swear, I've never seen such beautiful roses as yours. You really _must_ let me have a chat with your gardener, dearest Narcissa."

Draco nearly choked on his tea. He, too, remembered the pavilion. As a matter of fact, he had a very clear recollection of the last time he'd been there with Astoria. Her beautiful body stretched out on one of the marble benches, her dark hair spread over the white stone like a fan, her skin flushed a delicate pink, her eyes dark with arousal… They'd made love there, surrounded by the cloying scent of roses. The mere memory made him shiver involuntarily, and judging from the tiny smile playing around her lips, she hadn't forgotten either.

Fortunately, Narcissa was too preoccupied to notice his reaction. She was beaming with pride. "I take care of the roses myself, dear. I _might_ consider telling you my secret, though."

"Oh, please, do tell." Astoria's face was a picture of captive interest. "Do you use spells? My grandmother had this one spell she used on her gardenias and-"

"Look, Astoria, would you mind leaving us alone for a moment?" Draco had had enough. "You'll have plenty of time to discuss gardening with my mother later on, but I'd really like to have a word with her in private before I get back to work."

"Of course." Astoria's serene expression betrayed no trace of anger as she got up and left the room.

Narcissa didn't bother to hide her disapproval, however. "Draco! How rude of you! I like to think I brought you up better than that."

"Mother." He took a deep breath. "Look, I'd appreciate it if you stopped dragging prospective brides for me over for visits. Astoria and me, that's been over for years. It didn't work out then, it won't work out now. You may as well spare yourself the trouble."

Narcissa gave him a wounded look, disappointment clearly written on her aristocratic face. "Oh, Draco. Please give her another chance. You're almost thirty. I understand you want to enjoy your freedom, but really, House Malfoy needs an heir." She sniffed audibly. "And I wouldn't mind being a grandmother."

Draco didn't reply. He hated it when his mother badgered him about marrying, and he hated it even more when she resorted to emotional blackmail.

"Please, darling. It's not as if you're seeing someone else at the moment. I'm sure-"

"Mother!" His teeth were clenched so hard he had trouble forcing the words out between them. "Leave. Me. Alone."

"As you wish." Narcissa's lips were set in a thin line of disapproval, but her eyes were full of love and concern when she looked at him, and it made him cringe.

Draco knew his mother loved him more than anything in the world. Before giving birth to him, she had lost four babies, two during pregnancy and two shortly after birth. None of the Black sisters had had an easy time having children. Bellatrix had never been able to carry a child to term, even before her imprisonment, and Andromeda had nearly died giving birth to her daughter. _Maybe the whole pure-blood thing has something to do with it. All that inbreeding can't be healthy._

Whatever the reason, Narcissa doted on Draco. Her surviving son was the one focus of her life. And, he was her only chance ever to have grandchildren, her only chance to see the family name continue. How could he ever tell her about Harry and Hermione? How could he possibly- Suddenly, his chest felt so tight that he had trouble breathing.

Narcissa would never understand how he could even bring himself to touch a Muggle-born, _a Mudblood_. All her life, she'd believed in the sanctity of Wizard blood, in the necessity to preserve a perfect lineage. She'd cut off Andromeda as a blood-traitor, without compunction. And, she'd always remained close to Bellatrix, even when the latter had turned more than half-mad with hatred.

_And yet_ , a small voice kept whispering to him, _she would forgive you, eventually_. Because at the same time, this was the woman who had stood up to the Dark Lord himself when it came to saving her son. She would be horrified, true, and she'd make him beg for her forgiveness. But in his heart of hearts, Draco didn't doubt that it would eventually be granted. As for grandchildren, there still was plenty of time…

Which left him with the question of what to do about Astoria. He could hardly avoid her all weekend. Well, at least he could gain a moment's respite by pretending he had work to do. With a brief nod at his mother, he left the room, heading for his study.

* * *

Harry woke up to find the bed next to him empty, though he could still feel the warmth of Hermione's body and smell her scent on the sheets. Burying his nose in the pillow, he sighed contentedly. His dreams had been… pleasant, to say the least, involving a very needy Draco and Hermione looking on with wide, curious eyes.

Hermione appeared in the doorway, wearing one of her running shirts and nothing else, an irritated expression on her face. "Have you seen my trackpants? I swear I left them in the bathroom yesterday morning."

"You want to go running?" Harry made a face.

"Sure. Don't you want me to stay in shape?" She sat down on the bed with an indulgent smile, ruffling his hair.

"I like your shape the way it is." He blinked sleepily at her. "Besides, you can't go. I was rather counting on you to help me with this." He lifted the blanket and gave her a pleading look.

Hermione laughed. "And since when do you need my help with that?" Her long fingers were already closing around his erection, though, and he moaned, because they felt so very good. "Seems to me you're perfectly capable of dealing with the problem on your own."

"It's much more enjoyable when you do it, though," he gasped. "Please?"

"How could I say no, when you ask so nicely?" She was already slipping under the blanket with him, her bare legs entangling with his.

He kissed her hungrily, pulling her close, but the shirt was in the way, and he tugged impatiently at it. "Take this off."

She complied willingly, and then her skin was on his, all over, from head to toe, and it was the best thing ever. Without another word, they fell into a familiar rhythm of kisses and caresses. Her lips were so soft, and her hands knew precisely where and how to touch him, and when he finally slid inside her, she was hot and perfect all around him. He came only seconds after she did, their lips locked in a long, sweet kiss, their bodies intertwined as closely as they could be. They stayed like this for a few precious minutes, until he had to get up for a quick trip to the bathroom.

When he returned, Hermione was staring at the ceiling, a cute little frown wrinkling her nose, and he had to smile at the sight. "A penny for your thoughts?"

She sighed. "I don't know if I should even tell you, but-"

"That sounds really ominous. Maybe don’t tell me, after all," he quipped, but she remained serious.

"Well…" She hesitated, but then she made up her mind. "I've been thinking… Maybe it's not fair to put all the burden on Draco. Maybe we ought to make an effort, too. We can't expect him to socialize with our friends if we aren't even ready to talk to his family. Maybe if we talked to Narcissa, made our peace with her-"

"Really, Hermione? Narcissa Malfoy?" Harry shook himself, disgusted at the mere idea. "I don't think so. You know, with most of the pure-bloods we knew at school, I can tell myself that it wasn’t really their fault. Draco and his friends, they were hateful little bastards, but in a way, they didn't know better. They were kids and they parroted back the lies and prejudices they'd been brought up with. But their parents, the people who were actively supporting Voldemort? Who thought it was a good idea to raise their children in such a hateful atmosphere? That's a different story." He couldn't believe he had to explain this to Hermione, of all people. "Think of Bellatrix, for example. I can never forgive what she did, 'Mione. That woman killed Sirius in cold blood. She tortured you, she tried to kill us all more than once. And Narcissa is her _sister_. Whenever I look at her, I'm reminded-" He broke off, shuddering.

Hermione placed her hand on his chest in a soothing gesture. "Shhh. It was just an idea. You know I won't insist on it if you don't want to. But remember," she couldn't resist pointing out the flaw in his argument, "Bellatrix may have been Narcissa's sister, but then again, Tonks was her niece and, Sirius, her cousin. You can't condemn her for being related to Death-Eaters without condemning them, too."

"Oh yes, I can." Harry felt a familiar sense of obstinacy kicking in. "That's not the same thing at all, and you know it. Narcissa-"

"Saved your life." Hermione yawned. "Look, I'm going to take a shower now, and then maybe we can go out for breakfast? You look as if you need something to cheer you up."

_True enough. And this discussion isn't going anywhere._ "All right." He got up and stretched, trying to work the kinks out of his back. "Mind if I join you in the shower?"

She licked her lips at the sight of him, and her smile made his heart beat faster. "Not at all."

 


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione loved going out for breakfast on weekends. There was just something mildly decadent about sitting in a café and enjoying all the delicacies piled up before her without having to worry about cleaning up later. The very best way to start a long, lazy day. Since they had some more shopping to do later, they decided to go to Diagon Alley. A new little café had opened there, a few years ago, and it was a place dear to Hermione's heart.

The _Striped Sock_ was entirely run by former house elves, inspired by her efforts on their behalf to gain their freedom from their masters and to show the world they could get by on their own. They'd originally planned to call it _Spew_ in her honour, but fortunately she had managed to dissuade them. The place had been an instant success, with its cosy atmosphere and rich, tasty food. Of course, some of the more conservative Wizarding families had boycotted the _Sock_ on principle, but there were enough others who were glad to lend their support.

They had only just settled down at a corner table, menus in hand, when the door opened and Neville Longbottom walked in with his girlfriend. Maj Häxkvast was a tall blonde witch from Sweden whom he'd met at a Herbology Congress the year before. She was pretty, tough as nails, and funny, and Hermione liked her a lot. Like her, Maj had travelled extensively all over Europe after school, and they had spent hours comparing their itineraries and giggling over each other's anecdotes.

Neville spotted them immediately, greeting them both with affectionate hugs. "Happy belated birthday, Harry! Mind if we join you?"

"Not at all." Harry was beaming back. "And the same to you." The two of them shared an almost conspiratorial look.

As Neville and Maj reached for their own menus, Hermione couldn't help but compare their friend to the boy she had met so many years ago on the train to Hogwarts. They had all changed, but none so much as Neville. The chubby, self-conscious little boy with the buck teeth had turned into a good-looking, assured young man, several inches taller than Harry and with a friendly, infectious smile. Looking at him made her happy.

"So, what are you up to these days?" As soon as they'd placed their orders, Harry turned to Neville.

"You won't believe it, Harry." Neville paused briefly for dramatic effect. "I've been offered a job at Hogwarts! Professor Sprout feels she's getting too frail for the position of Herbology teacher, and apparently, they think I'm a suitable candidate."

"I bet they do. With a talent like yours." Harry looked as proud as if he'd gotten the offer himself. "They'd be stupid not to ask you."

Hermione couldn't help but agree. Neville had always had a particular gift for the subject, and it had surprised no one when he'd pursued it further after his NEWTs. From what she'd heard, his thesis was already considered a major contribution to the field, and he was in regular correspondence with authorities all over the world. Still, while Neville seemed flattered, he didn't look entirely enthusiastic about the idea of returning to their old school.

"Are you going to accept the offer?" she inquired carefully.

Neville sighed. "I really don't know." Ignoring Harry's cry of surprise, he went on. "I mean, it's a great job, you know, lots of perks and a comfy flat to live in, and not really too strenuous. And of course it would be nice to go back to Hogwarts. But, on the other hand..." He took Maj's hand, squeezing it briefly. "I don't really want to move up there, to the back of beyond. I don't think Maj would be happy there. Besides, I'm not sure I really have what it takes to be a teacher."

Hermione nodded slowly. "For what it's worth, I think you'd be an amazing teacher, Neville." She gave him her sweetest smile. "But hey, I can certainly understand your misgivings. I'm curious how you will decide."

The conversation turned to the approaching Weasley wedding. Neville rolled his eyes in sympathy when Hermione described her last few conversations with Ginny.

"And you?" Harry playfully elbowed Neville in the ribs. "When are you going to tie the knot?"

Neville shook his head, laughing. "Not any time soon. Maj's not really into that kind of stuff, are you, sweetheart?"

"Not particularly." Maj's tone was dry. "One thing is certain, though – even if I change my mind, I'm not taking his name. No way."

They all laughed at this, but then Neville turned to Harry. "What about the two of you, while we're on the topic of marriage? Or should I say the _three_ of you?" He winked suggestively.

Harry flinched visibly. "Don't remind me. It's… complicated."

They briefly summed up the dilemma they'd found themselves in because of Ginny's invitation. Neville listened attentively, making appropriate concerned noises. Hermione was glad to have someone she could share her worries with.

"What exactly is everyone's problem with you and Draco Malfoy?" Maj seemed to have trouble grasping why they were making such a fuss. "The three of you are happy together. End of story."

"Well, people here tend to be a bit more conservative. For British standards, the whole thing is really quite scandalous." Neville was grinning, but it seemed a little forced. "Besides, Malfoy is… was a Slytherin."

"That's one of the Hogwarts houses, right?" Maj was still not impressed. "Do you mean to tell me you can only be in a relationship with people from your own house?"

"No, of course not." Harry shook his head. "Slytherin is… a bit of a special case. There used to be a kind of feud between them and Gryffindor-"

"A feud?" Maj was frowning.

"Yeah, a traditional enmity, like-" Harry did his best to explain, but she interrupted him with a decisive gesture.

"I know what a feud is. But why would two houses of the same school fight each other?" She sounded genuinely irritated.

"Well, Slytherins tend to value pure bloodlines very highly. Apparently it's not quite as bad nowadays, but while we were at school they were _very_ dismissive of Muggle-borns." Hermione actually felt some of the old resentment boil up inside her. "Also, they have a bit of a history where the Dark Arts are concerned."

Maj shrugged, and Neville cleared his throat. "Maj went to Durmstrang. They teach the Dark Arts as part of their curriculum there."

"So I've heard." Harry didn't look happy at all, and Hermione couldn't blame him. After all, he spent most of his days cleaning up the messes left behind by Dark Wizards and Witches.

On seeing his expression, Maj surprised them by laughing out loud. "It's not like that. Durmstrang Institute doesn't train people to be evil. A solid knowledge of the Dark Arts can also help you to defend against them. Besides, from what I've heard, Ginny Weasley is quite proficient at hexing people. And I'm sure you've learned a few dark spells as part of your auror training, Harry."

He nodded reluctantly, though it was clear he didn't like talking about it. "Yes, I did. But, they are for emergencies only. We don't ever use them lightly."

"Neither would we, believe me." Maj had grown serious again. "Ever since Headmaster Karkaroff disappeared, we've done our best to improve our school's reputation. But, it's not easy." She sighed. "So, is Malfoy a Dark Wizard then? Did he dabble in the Dark Arts at school?"

"Not really." Hermione shook her head. "His parents tried to turn him into a Death Eater, but with little success."

"Mostly, he was just your average bully. From our first day at school, he kept playing pranks on me, you know, saying mean things, and trying to embarrass me." Neville's ears had turned flaming red. "I was probably an easy victim. I mean, he was clever and rich and popular, and I-"

"You were shy, Neville, and a bit clumsy. That's all." Hermione gave him a warm smile. "None of that excuses Draco's behaviour. If anything, being so privileged should have made him feel obliged to be extra kind to others. But I guess that's not a concept he could have learned at his parents' house."

"Hardly." Harry snorted contemptuously. "The Malfoys don't believe in kindness." He turned to face Maj again. "Draco's aunt Bellatrix was one of the Death Eaters who… attacked Neville's parents."

"That's not Draco's fault, Harry." Hermione glanced at Neville, anxious how he would react, but to her surprise, he nodded calmly.

"She's right, Harry. You can't blame him for what Bellatrix and her cronies did. The woman was completely and utterly insane, a Death Eater to the core."

"Exactly. Look, I'm not trying to excuse the things Draco did at school. Merlin knows, I detested him just as much as you did, back then." Hermione sighed. "But he's changed, he really has. He's grown up and-"

She was interrupted by the buzzing of her phone. Taking it from her pocket, she glanced at the screen. "A message from him." She kept reading, feeling torn between amusement and pity. "Oh dear. His mother is trying to play matchmaker. She's invited Astoria over for the weekend."

"Astoria Greengrass? Daphne's little sister?" Neville whistled through his teeth. "Wasn't Draco dating her a few years ago? I remember my grandmother mentioning that they might get married. Draco's a distant cousin of mine, by way of the Black family, so she'd probably have been invited to the wedding," he added by way of explanation.

"See?" Hermione gave Harry a pointed look. "Just as I told you. The pure-blood families are _all_ related. You're probably Bellatrix' fifth cousin thrice-removed yourself."

"'Mione!" Harry was clearly not amused. "Is Draco doing okay?"

The hint of concern in his voice made her smile. "I think so. Just fed up and getting slightly irritable. Let me just-" She quickly typed a message to Draco, assuring him they would do their best to cheer him up once the weekend was over. His reply, arriving only moments later, made her blush and smile. Glancing around to check if anyone had noticed, she quickly put her phone aside. "Well, he's old enough to handle this, I guess." Keeping her tone casual took a bit of an effort, but she managed. "Anyone want more tea?"

* * *

Draco couldn't help smiling as he read Hermione's latest message. She'd been periodically texting him all day long, her texts becoming more and more suggestive. It had actually been a big help to know that once this weekend was over he could look forward to being with the two of them again. Still, his patience was wearing thin.

He had managed to hide away in his study till lunch, but afterwards his mother had insisted he give Astoria a tour of the grounds. She'd kept her distance, but being with her brought up too many old memories that he didn't really want to revisit. His mother had joined them for tea, so he had mostly been able to leave the polite chitchat to her, but afterwards he had been forced to endure almost two hours of looking at old family pictures, with Astoria's smiling face popping up in a surprising number of them. Finally, they'd sat down for dinner, three whole courses, and each one had seemed to take forever.

His face muscles hurt from faking a smile, and he was beginning to count the hours until his mother's departure on Sunday afternoon.

"Goodness, Draco! You have one of those Muggle toys now?" Astoria's voice from the doorway startled him, and he quickly switched the phone's screen off. "How quaint!" She walked slowly towards him, giving him ample opportunity to admire her.

She _did_ look gorgeous, he was ready to admit it. Her red dress was tight enough to emphasize her perfect body, yet classy and elegant. And when she stepped closer, just a little too far into his personal space, her perfume surrounded him, instantly evoking the nights they had spent together. For a fleeting moment he wondered if she had managed to smuggle an Amortentia potion into his drink. But, he was honest enough to admit to himself that it was just simple, plain sexual attraction.

Smiling radiantly, she reached up to his shoulder to brush off an invisible piece of lint, her hand lingering just a second too long. "I enjoyed my day here at the Manor. Thank you."

"You should thank my mother." He kept his tone cool, but he knew she hadn't missed his tiny gasp at her touch.

Her eyes widened and she caught his gaze, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. And for a moment he was sorely tempted to do it, to kiss her, to take her, to give her what she wanted. As if she could read his thoughts, she closed her eyes, moaning almost inaudibly, and it took all his control to resist her.

"I'm glad you had a good time. But I'd appreciate it if we kept future visits of yours to a minimum." He sounded stiffer than he'd have liked.

Her eyes flew open again, and she pouted, rather adorably. "Aw, come on, Draco. Why do you refuse to see it? You still want me."

"No. I just want to fuck you." He saw her flinch at his crudeness and quickly amended his words. "Don't you see, Astoria? Of course I'd like to sleep with you. You're gorgeous, and you're hot, and you're obviously more than willing. I'd have to be dead not to want you. But, that doesn't mean I want to be with you again, let alone marry you. And, I respect you far too much to just have some fun with you now and then drop you again like a hot potato. Because that's what would happen if we had sex now."

Astoria sniffed disdainfully, looking more than a little offended. "As you wish. You've really changed, you know. From what Daphne said, you never used to have such scruples, back at school."

He didn't bother hiding his smirk at her lapse. "Did you discuss your plan of action with your sister, then?"

To her credit, Astoria actually blushed. "We may have talked about you, but… Look, Draco, I just don't get it. We were _good_ together. Your parents like me. We want the same things in life." A thought seemed to occur to her, making her frown. "Is there someone else? A Muggle, maybe?" She glanced suspiciously at the phone. "Did she give you this… _thing_?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Astoria." He was irritated enough that he didn't have to fake the sneer. "I'm perfectly capable of buying one on my own. And why would I date a Muggle girl?"

She shrugged, having quickly regained her composure. "Maybe you like the thrill of slumming. You wouldn't be the only one, from what I've heard." She sighed wistfully. "Hardly anyone appreciates a good family background anymore."

"A pure bloodline, you mean." Draco was beginning to get impatient. "Damn it, Astoria, save yourself some dignity. You're better than this. You're not a broodmare."

"I never said I was." He could see that he had really hurt her this time, and considered apologizing, but then thought better of it. If she was mad at him, he would stand a better chance of being left alone.

His silence had the desired effect. Hectic red spots appeared on her cheeks as she retreated towards the door. "You are impossible to talk to, Draco. I'll go and see if I can find your mother."

"By all means do so." He inclined his head politely. "I hope you enjoy chatting about her roses. And, by the way, her secret is horse dung. Plain and simple. From _pure-blood_ horses, of course."

Astoria gave him one last scathing look before she finally left the room. Draco leaned back against the bookshelf with a heartfelt sigh of relief. _Thank Merlin she's gone!_

* * *

Monday turned out to be a slow day at the auror office. Harry's partner, Stephen, had been called away to act as an additional bodyguard to a visiting dignitary from South America, which left Harry at a loose end. Of course, there were always cases to review and reports to file, and he set to the task with moderate enthusiasm.

By early afternoon, he had gone twice through all the evidence he'd accumulated for his open cases without coming to any new conclusions. It _really_ was a slow day. On impulse, he decided to take an elevator ride down to the archives. Within minutes, he'd found what he was looking for: Draco's file. The manila folder titled _D. Malfoy – Suspected Death Eater_ was substantial, but not unusually so, especially if compared with some of their more notorious cases. Harry opened it gingerly, unsure of what exactly he was looking for.

He wasn't particularly surprised when he found that Draco had been under constant surveillance for the past ten years. It made sense to keep an eye on someone with a past like his. Of course it had been done discreetly. It was never a problem to find an employee or an acquaintance with enough of a grudge to act as a spy for the auror office.

Harry was relieved to see that in all this time absolutely nothing had come up to indicate Draco was still among the Dark Lord's adherents. No contacts to known Death Eaters, not even his father, no suspicious correspondences, no undue interest in the Dark Arts. The Malfoys owned a collection of rare Dark Artefacts, but Draco hadn't shown any interest in them except for taking the necessary steps to preserve their considerable value.

There was no mention of their… affair with Draco either, but then that wouldn't be considered relevant to his case. It was entirely possible that whoever had accumulated this file knew perfectly well what Harry was up to in his free time, and the thought gave him a funny feeling in his stomach.

Leafing further through the file, Harry came across a stack of old pictures taken right after the war. Draco looked pitifully young in them, pale and scared, his eyes darting to and fro in panic. His statements had been contradictory at times, but what lies he had told had clearly stemmed from a desire to protect himself and his parents. It had been glaringly obvious that he hadn't cared for the Dark Lord or his agenda at all at this point, and the jurors had been unanimous in their decision to grant him a pardon.

Harry closed the file with a shiver, trying to imagine what it must have been like for Draco. To come to terms with the realization that everything he'd been brought up with had been wrong, that the father he'd idolized was a terrorist, his beloved aunt dangerously insane. To admit to himself that the values he'd grown up with were not only outdated and full of prejudice, but plain evil.

What if he, Harry, had been born into a family like Draco's? It had been hard enough to accept that his own father hadn't been as perfect as he'd always imagined him. The pensieve had clearly shown that James had been capable of thoughtless cruelty against Snape. What else would he have done, given the right circumstances? What if the Potters had been pure-blood fanatics, followers of Voldemort? It wasn't such an inconceivable thought, considering what kind of family his closest friend, Sirius Black, had come from. And yet, Sirius hadn't subscribed to the Death Eater ideology either. Would James Potter have had that strength if he'd had parents like Sirius'? Would Harry?

By the time he returned to his desk, his head hurt from all the implications, and he decided to have an early night. It wasn't likely that he would get any work done today after all. Quickly, he prepared to floo home, sighing deeply as the sheer complexity of their situation hit him like a club.

_Merlin! There's really no way we'll ever be able to make this work._


	9. Chapter 9

It had been a hellish day at the library. People tended to think her job was boring, but then, Hermione mused, most of them got their idea of what a magical library was like from the one at Hogwarts, where the books were tamed and, on the whole, well-behaved.

The restricted section was a whole other cup of tea. The books kept here were works of art, masterfully illuminated with heavily jewel-encrusted covers, their pages brimming with magical energy. Some of the more aggressive grimoires had to be kept chained behind bars, while the really ancient writings were sealed in papyri cases made from magically strengthened lead to contain their dark energy. Yet, sometimes, none of this was enough to prevent mishaps like today's.

It had started harmlessly enough when a tome on storm spells, which hadn't been properly put away, had been discovered to have leaked all over the two shelves below it. They had spent all morning carefully drying out priceless old spellbooks and assessing the damage caused by rainwater and minuscule lightning bolts.

Because they had all been so busy, Hermione's co-worker Catriona, a clever and usually very conscientious young witch from Galway, had forgotten to renew the binding spell on the manuscript she was working on. Unfortunately, the text she'd been in the process of restoring dealt with a number of particularly nasty hexes. Within minutes of the protections wearing off, several of them had gone wild in the reading room, forcing them to shut the whole place down for three hours while they dealt with the fallout.

Hermione winced at the memory as she took off her shoes and headed for the kitchen. There was bound to be an article in the _Prophet_ tomorrow, criticizing the library staff for their careless handling of the old texts. As if they didn't all love and cherish the books like their own children! Yet, as with kids, accidents were bound to happen now and then, and nobody was perfect.

She was surprised to find Harry at the kitchen table, nursing a mug of tea, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Back already?" She placed a quick kiss on his lips before getting her own mug from the cupboard.

"Yeah. Stephen wasn't in, and there wasn’t anything much to do. So I got bored and…" With a few quick, sparse sentences, he told her about what he'd found in Draco's file.

"It might have been better if you hadn't looked at it." She kept her criticism as gentle as she could. "I mean, it's nice to know Draco has a clean record, but-"

Harry nodded. "You're right. I shouldn't have. It's made me think, Hermione." He looked uncharacteristically serious. "Maybe it would be better if I left the auror office. Looking at the file today made me feel… weird." He sighed deeply. "I don't want to be one of the people spying on Draco. Not anymore. Not to mention it might look dodgy, if we ever made our relationship public. I mean, here I am, hunting down Dark Wizards by day and…" His voice trailed off.

Hermione sipped her tea slowly, trying to process his words. "So, you would quit your job because of Draco?"

"Not just because of him." Harry shook his head. "I've been thinking about this for some time. Being an auror is fun and exciting, but it's not what I want to do for the rest of my days, 'Mione. I don't want to spend half my life away on some mission or other. Besides, it's still dangerous, even if there are hardly any Death Eaters left."

_Which may be the real problem, no matter what you're telling yourself. If there were more of them still around, you'd never even think of quitting_. Hermione smiled to herself. If she wasn't very much mistaken, deep down inside, Harry was getting bored of dealing with the more mundane cases that took up most of his time nowadays.

"True," was all she said aloud, though. "Practitioners of the Dark Arts tend to be a ruthless bunch, even without Voldemort at their back."

Hermione knew Harry was one of the most powerful wizards alive, and she wasn't in the habit of worrying overmuch about him, but the fact remained that all aurors risked their lives on a daily basis. Only three months ago, one of Harry's younger colleagues had been permanently crippled by a particularly malevolent Blasting Curse.

"Just think of Jones." Harry echoed her thoughts. "He'll never walk again, and they're not sure his hearing will recover. If we ever start a family, and something like that should happen to me… I don't want our kids to end up like Neville."

"We don't have kids yet," she reminded him gently. "Worrying about them is a bit premature. Besides, I would still be there to look after them. But, I'll admit I wouldn't mind if you found something a little less… deadly to do."

"Yeah." Harry rubbed his eyes. "But, what would I do?"

"Well, you could always ask Charlie if he needs help with his dragons," she joked, doing her best to chase away the frown on his face.

"Are you mad?" Harry made a face. "I'm very attached to my eyebrows, thank you very much."

"Or you could help George out in the Joke Shop. Or become a Quidditch reporter." She grinned at his grimaces. "Honestly, Harry, there's practically nothing you _couldn't_ do. Everyone would welcome you with open arms. You could even apply to become an Unspeakable."

"You think?" He looked thoughtful. "I've always been curious as to what they actually _do_."

"Maybe you should take some time off, try to think things through. We could-" She was interrupted by the melodious ringtone of Harry's phone.

His answers made it clear that it was Draco on the other end of the line. When Harry shot her a questioning look, mouthing 'the Manor?' at her, she nodded quickly.

"We can be over in half an hour." Harry looked a little worried. "Okay? Yeah, I'll ask her. Bye."

"What's the matter?" She realized she sounded anxious.

"Draco wants us to come over for dinner. And he asked if we could maybe stay the night and apparate back in the morning."

Hermione raised a surprised eyebrow. They had never stayed overnight at the Manor during the week, though they had spent several memorable weekends there. "Yes, I think that should be fine. I worked overtime today, so it's no problem if I get there a little later tomorrow. Did he say why?"

Harry shrugged. "He sounded… strained. Having Astoria there for the weekend must have been worse than he admitted. I think he needs cheering up, badly."

They exchanged a look that was half sympathy, half innuendo.

"Well, then let's get ready." Hermione yawned. "I think I might need another cup of coffee first."

It was a bit of an effort to leave the house again, but she was richly rewarded with a tight embrace and a fiery kiss from Draco and a delicious dinner served by candlelight. The Malfoys' house elves loved to show off their cooking skills, and they rarely had an opportunity to do so nowadays, what with Draco living alone and entertaining only on rare occasions. They ate in companionable silence and then retired to Draco's room for a quiet glass of wine. Harry and Hermione snuggled up on the couch, while Draco sank gracefully down on the rug at their feet, leaning back against Harry's legs.

"Tell us about your weekend then." Harry gently ruffled Draco's hair. "Was it really that bad?"

Draco shuddered briefly. "Worse. My mother was in fine form, and Astoria-"

"What did she want?" Hermione knew she sounded jealous and distrustful, but she had never gotten along with Daphne Greengrass, and she highly doubted she would have liked her little sister better.

"What do you think?" Draco twisted his head to glance up at her, making a valiant attempt to smile. "Yours truly, of course. Apparently the prospect of becoming Mrs Malfoy was tempting enough to make her put up with my bad mood. She practically threw herself at me."

Harry's expression was sober. "But you didn't…"

"No!" Draco sounded offended. "Do you honestly think I would fall into her arms the moment she showed up here?"

Hermione put a soothing hand on his shoulder. "No, of course not. But you said she wanted you, and it would be understandable if-"

"She did her best," Draco admitted, a bit mollified already. "And yes, it was more than a little tempting, I'll give you that. But I wouldn't…" He visibly struggled with the words. "I wouldn't want to hurt you. Either of you."

A warm, fuzzy feeling spread in Hermione's stomach. Draco had definitely come a long way. _That didn't sound much like a Slytherin right now._

"Thanks." Harry bent down to breathe a kiss on Draco's neck. "You look stressed out. Anything we can do for you?"

Draco nodded slowly. "Oh, yes." Getting to his feet, he led them over to the bed.

* * *

It was so good to be with them again, to hear them laugh and feel their warmth, to know he could drop his guard and just be himself. So good to throw off his clothes, to lie back on the bed, to watch Hermione as she wriggled out of her jeans and shirt. So good to feel Harry's gaze on his body, warm and approving. Draco sighed deeply. _So good._

Harry didn't join them straight away. He settled in an armchair, next to the bed, taking off his shirt but keeping his pants on for the time being. Draco held his breath, instinctively waiting for him to initiate the next step in their little dance.

Hermione did the same, gazing expectantly at Harry. "What do you want? Tell us."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You're sure? Both of you?"

Draco nodded, spellbound, and Hermione made a small, impatient noise.

Leaning back in his chair, Harry smiled at them, looking more confident and relaxed by the minute. "Let me see… Yes. I want you to tell me about your wildest fantasy. The one you're embarrassed to talk about, the one that gets you off every time." He made a quick, encouraging gesture with his hand. "Go on. I'm waiting."

_Merlin_! Draco inhaled sharply, realizing that Harry's eyes were fixed on him. _So I'm to go first_. Suddenly, he felt twice as naked as before, and when he tried to speak, he found he had to clear his throat first.

"I don't know…" He hesitated, unsure of how to proceed.

"Oh yes, you do." Harry was merciless. "Tell me. Where are you? What are you doing?"

Automatically, he closed his eyes as he called up one of his favourite sexual fantasies. "I'm… back at school, at my desk in one of the Hogwarts classrooms. It's a boring lesson and everyone is half asleep. And suddenly-" He couldn't bring himself to continue. It was too embarrassing.

"Don't stop." Hermione's voice, warm and a little rough. "What happens then?"

"You… Hermione, I mean." He opened his eyes, smiling tentatively in her direction, grateful when she smiled back. "You are kneeling before me, hidden under Harry's Invisibility Cloak, so no one but me knows you're there, and…."

"What do I do?" Hermione's mouth was half open, and her nipples looked hard and taut. _So beautiful_.

"You… You suck me off." Draco cringed at his own vulgarity, but she didn't seem to mind. "You take me in your mouth and it feels so incredibly good, so hot and wet, and the things you do with your tongue…"

Hermione smiled like a cat, and got on her hands and knees to crawl over to his side of the bed, her eyes fixed on his crotch. "You mean, like this?"

The look on her face had him instantly hard, and he instinctively arched up to meet her willing mouth.

But, Harry interceded immediately. "No. No touching yet. Well, you can touch yourself if you want to," he amended. "But, apart from that, I just want you naked and talking. Both of you."

Draco just about managed to bite back a groan, but he obeyed, lying back and balling his hands into tight fists.

"Which teacher?" Hermione reluctantly retreated to her side of the bed, her expression vacillatingbetween arousal and amusement.

"Slughorn, mostly." Draco couldn't quite hold back a grin himself. "Or Snape, when I'm feeling particularly naughty."

Hermione laughed breathlessly. "Oh no! Just imagine… Does anyone ever catch us?"

"No." Draco shook his head. "I come close to giving us away, usually, because it's hard to keep quiet, considering you're so _very_ talented, but no one ever notices."

She laughed again, a little wildly. "Sweet Merlin, Draco. That's completely crazy. I would never have dared-"

"Does that mean you would have _liked_ to?" The idea was too much. Without thinking, he took hold of himself, stroking himself roughly.

"Careful." Harry's voice was warm but determined. "I don't want you to come yet. Let Hermione tell us her fantasy first."

To Draco's surprise, Hermione blushed violently. "My…. No, I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

"Why not?" Harry tilted his head to the side. "Surely it can't be _that_ bad?"

She shook her head, but her blush deepened even further. She looked all kinds of adorable. "No, it's just… If I tell you, the two of you might think I really want to do it, and I don't even know-"

"No need to worry about that." Harry sounded perfectly reasonable. "It's a fantasy. I understand and I promise I won't ask you to do anything you don't want to. Draco?"

He nodded, feeling slightly dizzy. What could she possibly-

"In my fantasy, I get to have… both of you. At the same time." Hermione's voice was almost too low to be heard.

"You mean… Oh, wow." Draco whistled softly through his teeth. "Is that even possible?"

"I have no idea." Hermione was talking faster now, but she still wouldn't meet their eyes, though it was obvious how turned on she was. "I mean, I've seen movies, but that was porn, and everyone knows that's not realistic. Anyway, it seems as if it might be awkward and maybe it would hurt, and as I said, I don't think I would actually _want_ it. It's just that the _idea_ is really, really hot."

"Oh, yes." Harry's eyes looked really dark. "See? That wasn't so hard."

"What about yours?" Hermione raised her chin in defiance. "You make us tell all kinds of embarrassing stuff, while you-"

Harry laughed softly. "Mine is actually pretty similar to yours." His gaze wandered over Draco's naked skin in an almost tangible caress. "I want Draco. And I want him while he's inside you."

Draco felt a flush spread over his face and chest, whether from lust or from confusion, he wasn't quite sure. He was so worked up he could barely breathe, but at the same time he felt a sharp sting of apprehension. "Harry…"

"It's all right. Fantasies, remember?" Harry sounded nonchalant, but the tension in his posture was telling. His hand dropped to the waistline of his pants. "You can touch her now."

It was such a wild rush of relief that Draco almost laughed aloud. Without further prompting, he was all over Hermione, kissing, licking, _biting_ , until she pulled him between her legs, just as impatient as he was. With a triumphant cry, he thrust hard inside her, pulling back immediately, eager to have her, to make her all his.

"No. Stop."

Merlin, but Harry was _really_ bossy today. Draco whined with irritation, but Harry remained implacable.

"No," he repeated. "Not so fast. I want you to move as slowly as you can, Draco. Take your time. Draw it out."

It wasn't easy, anything but. Keeping it slow, holding back, was almost torturous, but at the same time it was so amazing, so… Draco couldn't take his eyes off Hermione's face as he moved inside her, slowly and deeply. It was unbelievably intense to watch her like this, to observe her skin heating up, her breath coming in ever quicker gasps, her eyes growing almost feverish. _Exquisite_.

His body was screaming at him to go faster and harder, but Harry's low voice kept him back whenever he was close to losing control, and it just went on and on, a long, slow build of pleasure that left him breathless with anticipation and trembling with want. Judging from her wide-eyed gaze, Hermione felt the same, a curious sense of almost-fear of what was going to come, because they knew it would be earth-shattering in its intensity.

As he lost himself in her eyes, her sighs, her warmth, something inside him snapped or maybe broke into minuscule pieces, some carefully preserved shell, and the sensation was so strong he physically felt it in his chest. Hermione made a small, calming noise, and when she ran a finger softly over his cheek, he realized she was brushing away a tear.

"Draco." Her voice sounded strangled with lust and emotion. "I love you."

His brain blanked out at her words, just like that, and he simply couldn't hold back any longer. And there was no need, because she was already clenching around him, holding him so tightly he could barely breathe, crying out his name in utter abandon as he spent himself deep, deep inside her, their bodies as close as they could possibly get.

* * *

"Harry?" Hermione extended her hand toward him with a loving smile. "Come join us."

Harry nodded, unable to form words. He could hardly breathe, and he was close already, so close, just from watching them together. The soft, rolling motion of Draco's hips, the perfect line of his back, the expressions on both their faces – it was so perfect, so beautiful, so incredibly arousing.

He made himself comfortable between them, with Draco's arm around his shoulders while Hermione scooted downward to get him out of his pants. The moment he was naked, her mouth closed around him, hot and sweet, and he bucked up hard, completely unable to contain his reaction.

Hermione pulled back with a choked noise, but she cut his apologies short with a decisive gesture. "Draco."

Harry heard Draco's soft, warm chuckle in his ear, and then a hand settled on his hip, holding him firmly in place so Hermione could proceed. It didn't take long, as worked up as he was. He came with a strangled cry, kept coming for what felt like an eternity of bliss, caught up between them, their voices whispering soothing nonsense in his ears.

Afterwards, they lay entangled in a big, warm puppy pile, arms and legs everywhere, sweaty and messy and wonderful. Harry breathed in deeply, inhaling the smell of sex, of their warm bodies, Hermione's peach shampoo, Draco's aftershave, the faint lavender aroma of the bed linens, relishing it all beyond measure.

It was at this moment that his eyes fell on Draco's left arm, covered in ugly scars, a constant reminder of the horrors of the Dark Mark. Without quite knowing what he was doing, Harry took hold of Draco's wrist, catching his gaze as he pulled the arm towards him. When he placed a soft kiss on the scar, Draco's eyes widened and he trembled all over, but he didn't speak a word.

Harry caught his gaze. "I love you, Draco."

Draco made a small, inarticulate noise. He looked pale and scared, but at the same time, he reached out for them, both of them, eager to be held. As he buried his face between Hermione's breasts, he muttered a reply, almost too softly to be heard.

"Me, too."


	10. Chapter 10

"You're sleeping with Granger? Really? Well, I guess we've all lowered our standards a bit. No offense intended, of course. But, isn't she with Potter?" Zabini seemed torn between being confused and impressed. "What if he finds out?"

Draco took a deep breath. Attendance at the Weasley wedding was off the table, thankfully, but he had decided to take the plunge and start telling his friends about Harry and Hermione. Just one at a time, to see how it went. Blaise Zabini had been the obvious first choice. They'd always been close, and he wasn't likely to be overly dogmatic about the whole thing.

"Well… Actually, Harry knows." Draco carefully watched Zabini's reaction, but couldn't detect anything but mild curiosity in his expression. "I'm not just sleeping with _her_ , you know."

"What, you mean all three of you…" Zabini's eyes widened. "Merlin's pants! So, you're really into guys. And here I thought it was just teenage experimentation, back then."

Draco almost blushed. The two of them had spent more than one night in the last two years at school exploring their mutual attraction to each other. They'd kept it secret, of course, maintaining a careful distance during the day. As a matter of fact, they had never talked about it much, and it had ended by silent consent when they had left school.

But, it had been so damn hot while it had lasted. Blaise's long fingers wrapped around him, hot and tight, full lips trailing all over his body, teeth worrying at his nipples, dark eyes watching his every move as he came apart. Draco had never regretted messing around with him.

"No, it wasn't. Not for me." Draco shook his head. "Though I never, you know, did much about it after I left school. Not until now."

For most of his time at Hogwarts, he'd officially been with Pansy, which had suited him fine. She had been hot and willing, and hadn't asked too much from him in the way of emotional commitment. Afterwards, Draco had done what was expected of him, except for a few drunken one-night stands. Over the years, he'd dated several girls his parents had deemed suitable for him. He'd slept with them, too, and it had been fine. Heck, some of them had been pretty spectacular.

"I mean, it's not as if I don't like girls. Women." He caught Zabini's gaze, and was relieved to see no trace of contempt or disgust there. "I do."

And, up until the moment when Harry had stepped out of the shower right next to him, it wouldn't have occurred to him to approach any man he knew for sex. Why would he complicate his life like this when he could enjoy himself within the limits set by the rather conservative part of Wizarding society he belonged to? But, there had been something about Harry that day, the way he'd carried himself, the flash of recognition in his green eyes when they'd shaken hands, the line of his strong shoulders under the Quidditch robes… Draco simply hadn't been able to resist.

"Hey, it's fine." Zabini flashed him a soothing smile. "Though, why it had to be _Potter_ …" He made a face. "I mean, I always used to wonder why you were so very obsessed with him, even back when you claimed to hate him. But, I have to admit I never expected-"

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" Draco cursed himself the moment the words had left his lips. Blaise was friendly enough these days, but he _was_ a Slytherin, and giving him so much power over Draco was probably not a good idea.

Predictably, his friend's lips set in an amused smirk. _He knows he has me on a leash, the bastard_. Draco sighed internally. The least he'd have to expect in the future would be constant teasing. _Unless you just go ahead and tell everyone_ , a tiny voice at the back of his mind insisted. _Then you wouldn't have to worry anymore_.

But, he knew it wasn't that easy. Nothing ever was.

* * *

The dinner table was already set when a loud exclamation of surprise made her rush into the living room. Draco was standing near the window, his posture tense and defensive. Harry was about to step out of the fireplace, dusting off his jacket, and between the two, a familiar, lanky silhouette raised an accusing finger.

"Malfoy? What are you doing here?" Ron's expression was openly disgusted. He turned to face Harry. "What is he doing here?"

Harry shrugged. "Calm down, Ron." He embraced Hermione, kissing her quickly on the cheek. "I ran into him on the way home and asked him over," he explained. "We were going to throw around some ideas for Matt's stag night. I didn't know you had other plans."

"Nice to see you, too, Weasley." Draco's tone was dry as dust. "I'm sorry if my presence offends you, but I'm here because Hermione invited me for dinner."

"Did she now?" Ron threw her a suspicious look. "Is this some kind of weird scheme of hers to reconcile you and Harry? You know, forget about the past, let's all hug and forgive each other, that kind of thing?"

"Something like that," Draco agreed, exchanging a quick look with Hermione.

If possible, Ron looked even more nauseated. "Right. Well, if that's what you want, mate… Guess you have to keep her happy." He slapped Harry on the shoulder. "No offense, but I'm out of here. We can catch up some other time."

He had stepped back into the floo before Harry had even begun to answer.

Draco dropped into an armchair and pulled Hermione into his lap, an eyebrow raised in surprise, or maybe disapproval. "Well, that was… awkward. I had kind of assumed he knew about us as well. I mean, you told his sister, and Longbottom, and who knows who else-"

"Just Luna. And Neville's girlfriend. No one else." Hermione felt a blush creep up her neck. "I'm sorry, Draco. Ron isn't one of the most rational people around, and I… I'd been meaning to tell him, for quite some time, but somehow it never seemed the right time for it."

"We will have to, sooner or later, and he won't like it." Harry rolled his eyes at her. "I'm _so_ not looking forward to that conversation."

"Well, he'll just have to deal." Hermione felt her own lips set in a stubborn line.

Draco chuckled softly, pulling her closer, his hand tracing soothing circles on her back. "Hey, don't worry. I couldn't care less what _he_ thinks, to be honest. I'm just glad you realized in time that he's no match for you. It would have been such a pity if you'd ended up with him instead of us." A thought seemed to occur to him that made him grimace. "Merlin, Hermione, please tell me you didn't lose your virginity to that git."

"Draco Malfoy! I won't have you talk like that about Ron." She put on her best strict face, but he seemed unimpressed. "Not to mention that virginity is an outdated concept used to repress women and support patriarchal gender norms. Plus, it's really none of your business." She slapped his hand playfully. "But, as a matter of fact, I can put your mind at rest. I never slept with Ron."

There was a small incredulous sound from Harry. He'd kept out of the discussion so far, ostensibly immersed in the _Prophet's_ Quidditch pages, but now his head snapped up. "Really? I'd always assumed-"

"Nope." Hermione shook her head. "Somehow we never got that far."

"So…" Harry's voice dropped at least an octave, and the expression in his eyes became almost predatory. The paper was forgotten as he made his way over to them and knelt on the floor, placing his palms on her thighs. "If it wasn't Ron, then who was it? Will you tell us?"

Behind her, Draco shifted, his lips brushing softly against her neck. "Damn it, Harry, you…" He moaned, deep in his throat. "Will you, Hermione?"

She shivered. There was something primal and possessive about the way they were holding her between them, all but demanding to know who'd been her first. It irritated her quite a bit, and at the same time she had to admit it turned her on, almost against her will.

"Please." Harry's lips were on hers, greedily claiming her mouth.

Draco kept silent, but she felt the tension growing in him, ready to uncoil at any moment, and the sheer force of it made her whine softly into Harry's mouth.

"All right." Pulling back, she sat upright and took a deep breath. "The whole story?"

They both nodded, looking at her expectantly.

Hermione sighed, deliberately exaggerating her annoyance. "Well, then… Before the war, before Ron, I'd been messing around with a Muggle boy in my parents' neighbourhood. He was cute and it was fun, and we… we nearly did it, but I lost my nerve at the last moment. So, when I went to Paris, I still hadn't slept with anyone." Draco made a small noise and she pushed back against him, relishing his answering gasp. "When I started my training at the Académie, there was this guy, Nicolas…"

_She was doing her best to focus on the lecture, but it was hard to follow the professor. Her French was still not up to shape, and it was beginning to dawn on her that excellent marks at Hogwarts didn't mean she'd automatically be top of the class here. When the bell rang, it was a relief. With a resigned sigh, she stared down at her scrawly notes, trying to make sense of them._

_"If you need help with Mme Fabuleux's assignments, I'd be glad to be of service. It must be tough, if French is not your first language." The voice was warm and friendly, perfect English with the cutest hint of a French accent, and the pair of eyes that went with it were as blue as the summer sky._

_For a moment, she could do nothing but stare at him. A young wizard, just about her age, with light brown hair and a dazzling smile._

_"Nicolas," he introduced himself. "And you are-"_

Here we go again. _"Hermione." She watched his face, expecting him to make the connection and recognize her as a member of the Golden Trio._ He'll probably want an autograph next.

_"Hermione…" he repeated thoughtfully, and she cursed silently, getting ready for another round of 'Gosh, I can't believe you defeated the Dark Lord.' But instead, he cocked his head to the side. "Like in the Shakespeare play?"_

_"Yes, exactly." She exhaled almost audibly. "How come you know Shakespeare? Are you Muggle-born?"_

_"Half-blood." He shrugged, his expression completely unconcerned. "My mother is a witch, but my father is a lecturer at the Sorbonne. English literature. I grew up surrounded by Shakespeare and Chaucer and Milton."_

_"How lovely!" She smiled brightly at him, and was surprised to hear his breath hitch. "And if you could help me out with this, I'd be eternally grateful."_

"He _saved_ me, you know. I'd been so worried about my assignments." Hermione smiled fondly to herself. "We spent hours in the library sorting out my homework. And then we started doing other stuff together, like hanging out at the park or going for ice-cream. He took me to the theatre, too." She closed her eyes, and the images were there in her mind, as clear as day. "That was the first time we kissed. We'd been at the Richelieu, to see _The Winter's Tale_. In French, of course. _Le conte d'hiver_." He'd kissed her good-bye on the doorstep, sweet and undemanding, but she'd spent the whole night dreaming of more. "The next time, I asked him in. I think we just kissed, for hours, until the sun came up." It had been so romantic, with the moon shining in through the window of her tiny flat above the rooftops of Paris.

"And then?" Harry's hands wandered under her shirt, finding bare skin, and his voice was already hoarse with want.

"I was so in love with him." Hermione smiled to herself, lost in the memory. "He was very patient, but I think we both knew it was going to happen sooner or later. And one night…" She shuddered.

_"Hermione." Nicolas' accent was always more pronounced when he was aroused, and tonight he was so excited that his eyes looked nearly black. "Will you let me make love to you? Please."_

_She nodded silently, unable to reply. His lips were soft on her bare skin, and when he spread her legs wide and put his mouth on her, it was the best feeling ever. He'd made her come like this before, but tonight they wouldn't stop at that. The mere thought made her feel clumsy and awkward. Her heart was beating wildly, her brain going into overdrive. What if he didn't enjoy it, what if she was too stiff, too tense, too… anything?_

_"Shhh." He was back to kissing her, his voice warm and reassuring. "You need to relax,_ mon ange _. Is it all right if I use magic?"_

_Hermione nodded, her curiosity piqued enough to make her forget her worries for a moment. She'd never heard of a spell that could- Nicolas muttered a few words under his breath, and a warm wave washed all over her body. All the tension drained from her, and before she could get nervous again, he was already inside her. It hadn't hurt a bit. Nicolas smiled, a little smugly, and kissed her with infinite tenderness. And then he began to move, and everything became a blur._

"We made love, and it was… sweet, and gentle, and wonderful." She swallowed hard. "Everything a girl could ask for."

"So he knew what he was doing?" Draco was obviously trying to sound blasé, but his voice was so thick with arousal that he completely failed at it. "Glad to hear it."

Harry growled his assent, his grip on her waist tightening. Hermione smiled to herself. It was oddly endearing to find them both so protective of her former self, and it made her fall in love with both of them a little more.

In the meantime, Draco had taken over caressing her breasts, while Harry was pushing up her skirt and dragging her panties down her legs. Hermione gave up on talking, her head sinking back against Draco's shoulder. Remembering her time with Nicolas in such vivid detail had left her madly aroused, and she was only too glad to let them take care of her.

* * *

Harry couldn't take his eyes off her. She was insanely gorgeous like this, flushed and dishevelled, completely surrendering herself to their caresses. Listening to her had nearly driven him mad with desire. He'd seen pictures of this guy, Nicolas, in her albums, and it was all too easy to imagine them in bed together. His head was filled with a wild mixture of conflicting feelings: lust, first and foremost; excitement and curiosity; but also a strange, wild possessiveness that included both Hermione and Draco.

She was almost naked now, naked and open before him, making him feel faint with need. He wanted nothing more than to bury his face in her heat and make her scream, but if they stayed here, he wouldn't be able to see and touch Draco, not the way he wanted to, needed to, and he couldn't bear the thought.

"Bed," he managed to force out, getting to his feet and pulling them both up with him. "Now."

It took them only moments to relocate to the bedroom, shedding their remaining clothes on the way. They stretched out on the bed, all three of them, hot and bare and wonderful. Hermione was whining impatiently as he spread her wide, and Merlin, she tasted like heaven. And Draco felt so _good_ , all hard and taut, his lips soft and warm around Harry's cock, his body hot and tight around his probing fingers.

They switched places, after Hermione had come for the first time, and it was glorious, all three of them squirming with pleasure, drifting slowly from one position into the next, exploring, discovering new sensitive places, teasing and playing. The room was only dimly lit, and it was nearly impossible to tell where one body ended and the other began, whose flesh he was caressing, whose salty skin he was licking. Every nerve in his body was alert and craving touch, every fibre of him crying out for release.

Draco came before he did, though, thrusting hard into Hermione's willing mouth while Harry was holding him, kissing him, drinking his sighs from his lips. He himself held out until she took him in, wrapping her legs so tightly around his torso, pulling him in so deep that he lost all control and pounded hard into her, sobbing her name as his orgasm tore through him. Afterwards, he and Draco teamed up on Hermione, both their mouths on her, exchanging long, delicious kisses whenever they got close enough. They made her beg, and then scream, and it was immensely satisfying to see her come apart.

They showered and quickly ate their dinner, then snuggled up for the night, all three of them too tired and sated for more strenuous activities, at least right away. Harry lay back, enjoying their warmth, and let his mind wander.

"Why did you break up with Nicolas?" The question escaped his lips before he had time to think it through.

Draco nodded. "Good question. If he made you so happy…"

Hermione looked thoughtful and a little sad. "Well, in our second year at the Académie, he won a scholarship for the Salem Institute of Witchcraft. We tried to stay in contact for a while, but after a few months he wrote to me and confessed he'd fallen for a pretty witch from Canada. And it was so weird because I realized… I wasn't even all that sad. It just had run its course, you know. A little while later I met someone else." She sounded almost dreamy. "But the thing is, I don't regret a single day I was with him. In a way, that was the most important thing I learned from him. That the time you spend with someone you love and respect is never wasted, no matter whether or not it lasts 'forever'". Grimacing, she painted air quotes around the last word. "There's nothing to regret. He was such a sweetheart." She yawned, her eyes already falling shut.

Harry felt another brief pang of jealousy, but chided himself immediately for it. There was no reason for resentment. No matter what had been, she was here now, with him, with Draco, and that was all he could possibly ask for. Here. Now. The three of them. It was exactly what he wanted.

 


	11. Chapter 11

It was almost eleven, and Harry was still not back. Draco yawned, wondering idly whether he should leave so Hermione could have an early night. But it was Friday, and the bed was warm and comfortable, and he didn't really want to go. If he stayed, they could sleep in tomorrow and have breakfast together, and maybe he could hang around a little longer.

Hermione came in from the bathroom, brushing her hair with quick, aggressive strokes. She looked annoyed.

"Why are they taking so long? How hard can it be to organize a stag night?" She sniffed disdainfully. "It took Luna and me about an hour to plan the hen night, so why do they have to spend a whole evening at the pub?"

"They're probably just enjoying their night out." Draco was secretly amused by her querulousness. "You know, guys' stuff. Talking Quidditch, drinking beer, discussing their girlfriends' many virtues…"

Hermione threw him a dark look. "Bragging about their conquests, you mean. And ugh, don't remind me of Quidditch. I've had enough talk of quaffles and broomsticks to last me a lifetime, thank you."

He grinned, patting the bed next to him. "Well, you knew what you were getting into when you started dating Harry. He's always been crazy about the game."

She rolled her eyes, looking almost comically desperate. "It's not just him! They are all the same! I know Ginny and Matt are going to love their surprise, but-"

"They'd better! Not everyone gets a celebrity Quidditch match as a wedding gift." Draco watched with approval as she dropped her towel on the floor and joined him naked on the bed.

"Pre-wedding gift," she corrected him. "And it's only a celebrity match because _I_ persuaded Viktor to play. The rest are just amateurs."

_Damn good amateurs, though_. Draco was willing to admit that Harry was still one hell of a seeker, and Ginny had almost made the Holyhead Harpies team when she'd tried out a few years ago. The other Weasleys weren't too bad either. If he was quite honest, he wouldn't have minded being invited to watch the game. Heck, he'd have loved to play.

When he didn't reply, Hermione sighed deeply. "Anyway, I'm sick and tired of this bloody wedding. I'll be so glad once it's over."

Draco agreed whole-heartedly, of course, but it was much more fun to tease her. "Aw, come on. It could be worse. Imagine it was you, getting married to Ronald Bilius Weasley." She glared at him, but it only spurned him on. "Lucky escape, if there ever was one. Have you told him, by the way?"

"Told whom? Ron?" She blushed. "You mean, about us? No, I…"

He raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Why? You're not scared, are you? Whatever happened to that famed Gryffindor courage? Did I get that wrong somehow?"

Of course his sneering tone set her off immediately, just as he'd intended. "Draco Malfoy! I'm not _scared_! How dare you-" His face must have given him away, because she interrupted herself, eyes narrowing. "Merlin's pants, you're _enjoying_ yourself, aren't you? Pushing my buttons, driving me up the wall? You are getting a kick out of this, you… you troll!"

"Yup." He grinned widely, leaning back against the headboard. There was really no point in denying her accusations. He was half hard already, and with only a thin blanket covering his naked body, that fact wouldn't escape her notice much longer. "Of course I do. Always have. You are so damn hot when you're angry."

"You-" She seemed torn between anger and laughter. "You have some nerve admitting that to my face! Aren't you afraid of what I'll do to you?"

The dangerous edge to her voice went straight to his groin. "Hmmm. You have a point. It wouldn't be the first time you’ve slapped me, after all."

Hermione blushed at this reminder of their past. "One would almost think you'd liked it."

"Maybe I did." Slowly, he moved his hips, and sure enough, her gaze was drawn downwards and her eyes widened. "Though, to be honest," reaching for her hand, he pulled it towards him, groaning when her fingers closed around him, "I'm not really into that kind of thing. Just…"

She echoed his moan, leaning in to kiss him deeply. When she pulled back, she licked her lips. "Yes?"

"Just you." He thrust into her grip while his hand slid between her legs, curled fingers brushing against her moist heat. "Everything you do."

She gasped, opening up for him willingly, while their lips met in another kiss. "Draco… Oh yes, don't stop."

"I wasn't planning to." Slowly, patiently, he worked two fingers into her, shuddering when she clenched around them. "You feel so good."

Her eyes were closed and she was breathing hard. Carefully, he swiped his thumb over her clit and was rewarded by a low, throaty moan. "Again. Please."

He obliged readily, thrilled beyond measure by the knowledge that he could do that to her, that he could reduce her to begging, making her plead and cry for more. _So hot_.

“Tell me you want me.” Draco let go of her lips just long enough to breathe the words against her open mouth. “Tell me you need me. My cock, inside you.”

The nails of her free hand dug deep into his shoulder, but she shook her head with a breathless laugh. “Think highly of yourself, do you?”

“Absolutely.” He pushed his fingers deeper, and she keened with lust. She was so wet, so ready for him that it went straight to his head, making him dizzy with pride and desire. “You want it badly, don't you? Come on. Ask nicely.”

She shook her head, though he felt her quiver around his fingers. “You arrogant-“

He cut her off with another kiss, pulling his hand back and dragging her into his lap, straddling him. Carefully, he aligned himself against her entrance. “Well?”

He pushed inside her just the tiniest bit, then withdrew, making her whine in frustration. Once more, he repeated the motion, teasing her with what she wanted, laughing softly at her exasperation.

“All right!” Her voice was harsh and raspy. “Stop it. I want you. I need you. Please, Draco.”

“My pleasure.” Without warning, he thrust up hard, burying himself to the hilt inside her.

She cried out sharply, and for a fleeting moment he was afraid he'd hurt her, but then she inhaled and he felt her tighten, her inner muscles rippling all along his length as she embraced him, hiding her face against his neck.

“You're an evil bastard, Draco Malfoy. And I love you.”

His heart skipped a beat. He was still not used to it, still wary of the warmth spreading inside him, and he instinctively tried to lighten the mood. “Because I'm an evil bastard?”

But Hermione just shook her head, nuzzling his neck, and she felt so wonderful, her slim body pressed up against him, her heat surrounding him. “Because you're _you_.” She sounded utterly sincere.

He swallowed. “I… I love you, too.”

She leaned back so she could meet his eyes, and she smiled happily. And then she pushed herself upwards, placing her hands on his shoulders to support herself, and there was no need for words anymore. Not for a good long while.

* * *

Harry wasn't a big fan of British wedding traditions. In his experience, they tended to include far too much alcohol and far too little common sense. So, when they'd made their plans for Matt's stag party, he'd done his best to prevent some of the worst excesses of bad taste.

The afternoon had gone quite well, from his point of view. They'd played an exciting game of Quidditch, all of them together, eschewing the rule that men and women had to celebrate separately. It had been fun to meet Viktor Krum again, and a real thrill to play against him, even if Harry's team had lost. Even Hermione had admitted it had been a good idea when she had seen the happy, beaming faces of Ginny and her husband-to-be.

They had split up for the evening, though. The girls had gone off to the Striped Sock, open late tonight to accommodate their private party, while the guys had headed for the backroom of a slightly sleazy nightclub next to the White Wyvern in Knockturn Alley. Harry had never set foot in the place, but their group included several of Matt's colleagues from the Ministry, who seemed quite familiar with it.

Harry didn't particularly enjoy their company, and he was glad to have Neville and the Weasley brothers by his side. Surrounded by their familiar freckled faces, he felt quite at home, no matter where they were. And the room was cosy enough, despite the red light décor, with just enough room for their tables, a bar and a tiny stage. They ordered drinks and settled down, chatting about this and that, until the stage lights flared up and a bell announced some form of entertainment.

"So… What's the plan for tonight?" Harry smiled politely at a tall, sandy-haired guy called Colum, who shared an office with Matt and had the honour of being his best man.

Colum grinned smugly. "Well, we thought we'd go with the traditional approach and order a stripper. You know, so that Matt can have some excitement before he gets married."

"Uh-oh." George made a face, pretending to duck below the line of fire of an invisible projectile. "Ginny won't like that. Not at all."

Matt seemed to agree, judging from his worried face. But before he could protest, a door at the back of the stage opened and the stripper appeared, greeted by stunned silence that quickly turned into embarrassed chuckles. Harry didn't know how to react, to be honest. He had to admit he hadn't expected _that_ particular twist, but he certainly wasn't going to object to it. Matt, for his part, looked relieved, more than anything else.

"Well, I guess Ginny won't be mad after all." Neville's dry comment summed up their thoughts perfectly.

The stripper was tall, blond, and gorgeous – and also, decidedly and unambiguously, _male_. A seriously cute guy, as a matter of fact, twenty-ish, with soft golden skin and tousled hair, dressed in tight pants and a shirt. Briefly, Harry wondered whether he was a Muggle, and if so, what he would make of his surroundings. _Maybe he's a Squib._

Then the music started and the guy began to move. The other guests seemed to have gotten over their initial surprise, and most of them were drunk enough to play along, applauding whenever an item of clothing got shed or a particularly racy move caught their eye. The dancer was a professional, and his routine was well choreographed, nicely building up toward a dramatic finish when he dropped his pants and remained standing in a tiny red thong. He was slim, but well-built, and in the dim light his body and his colouring were eerily similar to Draco's. Harry's throat suddenly felt parched and he reached for his glass to cover up his confusion.

The show wasn't over, though. The music changed and the stripper left the stage to move from one spectator to the other, showing off his body, wiggling his ass at them, daring them to tuck a few bank notes into his underwear. Matt acquitted himself nicely, covering up the shaking of his hands with a cocky smile. And suddenly the stripper was right there, in front of Harry, glancing at him from under thick, long lashes. Harry did his best to appear unmoved, but there must have been _something_ in his eyes, because the guy's smile got a tad more daring, his moves a teensy bit more explicit. Slowly, methodically, maintaining eye contact all the time, he lifted his left foot and placed it on Harry's chair, right between his legs. Harry nearly forgot how to breathe. He wasn't sure how, but somehow he managed to place his five pound note under the tight strap without embarrassing himself.

When the stripper had left the room, with a last lingering smoulder at him, Harry exhaled sharply. He was seriously turned on. Various scenarios were playing out in his mind at alarming speed, some of them involving the half-naked guy, some of them Draco, all of them explicit enough to make him shiver. Surreptitiously, he reached down to adjust his pants, forgetting who was sitting right next to him.

Ron had been drinking steadily for the past two hours. Glancing sideways at Harry, he made a quick, obscene gesture. "Blimey, looks as if you were _really_ enjoying yourself there, mate. All the time I've known you, and I never figured you were into blokes." Maybe he hadn't meant to sound disgusted, maybe it was just the alcohol, but his tone made Harry flinch.

Just then, the music stopped, and Ron's last words carried loud and clear through the quiet room. All heads turned, and everyone was staring at Harry. _Oh, great!_ But he wasn't going to go into hiding now.

Raising his chin defiantly, he shrugged. "So what? Do you have a problem with it?"

Matt cleared his throat. "Hey, leave him alone, Ron. It was just a bit of fun, wasn't it, guys?" He grinned apologetically at Harry.

Neville was smiling warmly, though, giving him a quick thumbs-up, and George's expression was openly curious. Suddenly Harry realized there would never be a better opportunity than this. "No, it's fine, Matt. He's right. I did like it. A lot."

Despite having started it, Ron was getting visibly uncomfortable with the topic. "Hey, you'd better not let Hermione hear you talk like that."

Harry felt irritation rise in his throat like bile. "And why not? _She_ doesn't mind. And if you-"

"What do you mean, _she doesn't_ _mind_? What's going on here, pal?" _Shit_. Ron was obviously not too drunk to detect hidden subtext. "First, you steal my girlfriend, and now the two of you-"

"Oh, shut up, Ronnikins, will you?" George had obviously had enough. "Fascinating as it may be, we're not here to discuss Harry's sex life, or your sad lack of one, for that matter." The thoughtful look he gave Harry made it clear he would be getting back to the topic at a later time, though. "This is Matt's party. His last night as a free man and whatnot, so let's have fun!"

Reluctantly, everyone returned their attention to their glasses. The music started up again, and soon the low buzz of conversation filled the room. Harry was thankful for the respite, but it wasn't over.

"So, about Malfoy…" Ron's eyes were half-closed and he was chewing on his lower lip, as if he was working out a complicated problem. _Not sober enough to be tactful, but not drunk enough to forget about it_. "What was he really doing at your place?"

Harry loosened his collar, doing his best to look unconcerned. "What do you mean? We had dinner together." Which was perfectly true. Of course they had also shagged like bunnies for most of the night that followed, but he really was under no obligation to mention that fact. At least not until Ron had sobered up sufficiently to be reasoned with.

"Dinner, eh?" Ron opened his mouth to say more, but thankfully Neville chose that moment to intervene. Harry could have kissed him, although that definitely wouldn't have helped his case.

"Come on, guys. We're moving on to the Leaky Cauldron for a few more pints." Neville took Ron's arm, pulling him to his feet, which turned out to be more difficult than he had anticipated. "Or perhaps we should take you home? Seems you've had enough."

The suggestion was enough to distract Ron for the time being. His loud protests filled the room. With a sigh, Harry got to his feet and followed the others to the pub. _This is going to be a long night._ He wondered how Hermione was faring with the girls.

* * *

So far, the hen night wasn't too bad. At least Ginny's friends were an agreeable lot, most of them people they both knew from school. Luna was going to be the maid of honour, so she was there, of course, as well as Maj, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and Cho Chang. Fleur Weasley and two of Ginny's fellow journalists at the _Prophet_ , Helen Wright and Alice Ellerby, completed their party.

They had the café to themselves, and the elves, all but invisible as usual, had outdone themselves with various snacks and cocktails. Hermione found to her surprise that she was really enjoying herself, exchanging nostalgic anecdotes with her fellow Gryffindors and discussing politics with Helen, who was the Prophet's expert on Ministry of Magic Affairs. Their drinks were tasty and colourful, but not too strong, so when Alice and Helen politely said their good-byes, a little after eleven, no one was more than a little tipsy.

"Finally! Now that it's just family…" Katie reached into her bag and dug around for a moment, emerging triumphantly with a large bottle of Firewhisky and a set of shot glasses. "Game time!" Her face lit up in a mischievous smile. "Let's play _Never have I ever_."

Hermione just barely managed not to groan aloud. Party games were among her least favourite activities. And as Katie explained the rules, it quickly became apparent that this one would be no exception. _Drinking and personal questions._ _Great!_ Still, she knew she wouldn't get out of this without offending Ginny.

Katie busily filled their glasses, then leaned back in her chair, pretending to think about her first statement. "Here we go! Never have I ever… had sex on a Quidditch pitch."

Hermione felt her cheeks heat up. _Really_ personal questions, it seemed. Well, at least she could safely pass up this round. Angelina and Ginny both cursed quietly and downed the content of their glasses. A few stray giggles arose around the table.

"Oh my, Ginny. Really?" Luna shook her head. "Well, I'll go next. Never have I ever… taken nude pictures of myself."

Maj and Fleur both blushed and reached for their glasses, doing their best to ignore the whistles and catcalls.

"Your turn, 'Mione." Ginny was grinning widely. "Come on."

She thought quickly. "Never have I ever… had sex while I was drunk."

There was a collective groan around the table as everyone but Luna emptied their glasses. _Oh my. If we keep that up, none of us will be sober enough to apparate home._

Cho went next, looking cool and confident. "Never have I ever faked an orgasm."

Her statement was greeted by a moment of stunned silence. Then Ginny raised her glass, looking grumpy. "Well, lucky you." There was a murmur of agreement as they all took a deep sip.

Angelina's brow was deeply furrowed. "Let me see… Never have I ever been to a sex show."

_Oh, damn it!_ Aware of all the eyes upon her, Hermione drained her glass.

"You have? Where? And what was it like?" Katie looked intrigued.

Hermione shrugged. "The _Crazy Horse_ , in Paris. It was okay, I guess. Nothing seedy or sordid. It was all very clean and stylish. A bit boring, actually. Maj?"

The tall blonde looked thoughtful. "Never have I ever had sex under a starry sky. It's too cold in Sweden, usually," she added by way of explanation.

Fleur nodded understandingly and downed another shot, joined by Katie and Angelina.

"Now for our charming bride." Katie's voice was getting slightly unsteady. "Go ahead, Gin."

Ginny shrugged. "Never have I ever made out with a girl."

Luna rolled her eyes at her as she drank. "Well, yeah. Thank you very much."

Ginny grinned smugly, and Hermione could have shaken her. _After all, she knows perfectly well that Luna_ -

Right then, Angelina reached for her glass as well, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "Duh."

"You?" Ginny sounded incredulous. "But I thought you and George-"

"Nah." Angelina shook her head, unperturbed. "I did try dating him for a while, but eventually we both realized we were playing for the other team. The only reason we still go out together occasionally is to keep your mum happy."

" _What_?" Ginny nearly choked on her drink and Hermione raised a surprised eyebrow. _Well, well. Didn't expect that either._

"Never mind. We can discuss this some other time." Fleur was obviously eager to change the subject. Quickly, she refilled their glasses. "Never have I ever… had a threesome with two men."

_Oh shit!_ Hermione swallowed hard, her mind racing. Of course a white lie would be forgivable under these circumstances, wouldn't it? Then again… Taking care not to meet anyone's eye, she picked up her glass.

The room was silent, except for a small choked sound from Luna's direction. Closing her eyes, Hermione counted to ten under her breath. When she dared to look up, she realized she was the only one drinking. They were looking at her, all of them, except for Ginny and Maj who were exchanging amused glances.

Cho's eyes were round as saucers. "Really? When? Do tell."

It was tempting to blame the amount of alcohol she'd consumed. But maybe she was just really sick of pretending. Either way, the words slipped out before Hermione could stop herself. "Last night, actually."

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Harry woke with an ear-splitting headache, congratulating himself for having taken the day off. They had scheduled the stag night on a Thursday, instead of a day later, on the eve of the wedding. A good decision, in retrospect, since there was no way he'd have managed to deal with a swarm of Weasley relatives the way he was feeling today. Next to him, Hermione was still completely out of it. She'd already been asleep by the time he’d got home last night, her tousled hair all that showed among the pillows.

He headed for the shower first, sighing in pleasure when the hot spray hit him. The next step was coffee. He didn't feel ready for food yet. He'd just finished brewing a pot and making himself comfortable at the kitchen table when Draco's head popped around the doorframe. He was smiling and looking healthy and fit and well-rested. Harry scowled at him.

"Morning. You look like hell warmed over." Draco sauntered in, not bothering to hide his complacent expression.

He was fully dressed, of course, in black jeans and a dark grey t-shirt that brought out the colour of his eyes. The jeans were tight enough to evoke some of Harry's hotter memories of last night: the blond stripper, peeling off his pants, hips undulating suggestively; the feel of his soft skin as Harry placed his tip; the heated look from those blue eyes… And just like that, Harry was half hard again.

Draco didn't seem to notice, though. He poured himself a cup of coffee, then grabbed a chair for himself, dropping a small vial into Harry's lap. "Here you go. Hangover potion. Secret Slytherin recipe."

Harry eyed the vial critically. "This isn't some kind of prank, is it?"

"Nope." Draco leaned back in his chair, crossing his hands behind his neck with a satisfied smirk. His shirt rode up, exposing a stripe of soft skin on his belly.

Harry swallowed, but the lance of pain cutting through his temples reminded him to get his priorities straight. Uncorking the vial, he downed its contents in one go. For a second, his head rang as if he'd been hit by a sledge hammer, but then the pain was gone. Just like that.

"Wow." He carefully tried to move his head from left to right. Nothing. "This is great! I can see why you kept it a secret."

Draco looked decidedly smug. "Yup. The other houses had no idea what amazing parties we used to have, down there in the dungeon." He grinned, obviously lost in happy memories. "A never-ending supply of butterbeer and sweets for the little ones, firewhisky and snogging in dark corners for the sixth and seventh years. Well, sometimes more than just snogging.” He shot Harry a suggestive look, his eyes half-closed.“And thanks to this potion and a few other tricks, no teacher was any the wiser on the next morning. It has its charms, you know, being one of the naughty kids."

"Yeah?" Harry got up and extended a hand, pulling Draco to his feet and into a tight embrace. "I hope by now you've realized the good kids aren't all that boring either."

Draco was so much taller that he couldn't look him in the eye like this, but he could rest his head against his chest, listening to the low rumble of his laugh.

"I have no complaints." Draco leaned back against the counter, dragging him along by the waistband of his pyjama pants, raising an eyebrow when his hand brushed against Harry's erection. "Hey. What's got you so worked up early in the morning? Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

Harry moaned softly, pushing his hands up under Draco's shirt, eager for more skin contact. "Just… something that happened last night."

"Now you've got me curious." Draco arched into his touch, almost purring. "Must have been some party."

"Draco…" Harry couldn't possibly wait any longer. Scraping his nails across Draco's chest, he tilted his head back and pulled him down into a deep, hungry kiss.

"Hey, guys." Hermione closed the door behind her, yawning widely. Her face was all scrunched-up from sleeping and her eyes looked bleary. "Coffee?"

"In the pot." Harry didn't really want to let go of Draco, but he made himself pull back a little. "Do you have another one of those potions?"

"Sure." Draco dug around in his pockets and tossed a second vial at Hermione.

She almost dropped it, but managed to catch it before it shattered on the floor. "What's this?"

"Don't ask. Drink." Draco's hands settled on Harry's hips, pulling him closer again, letting him feel how much the kiss had affected him, too.

They kissed again while Hermione drank up the potion, smiling against each other's lips when they heard her small cry of happy surprise.

"Gosh. That's better. Now I'm hungry." Hermione headed for the sink and began to putter about with plates and cutlery.

Draco's hand was closing around Harry's cock, firm and sure, and he was just about ready to lose himself in a cloud of early morning bliss when Hermione turned to face them, her expression thoughtful.

"Did you know that George is gay?"

" _What_?" Harry caught Draco's wrist, momentarily distracted.

"Funny, that's exactly what Ginny said." Hermione turned back and began to dig through the fridge.

"Well, it's a surprise. Though, maybe not much of one," Harry amended, remembering the look on George's face last night. "How do you know?"

"Angelina mentioned it. Also, I very nearly outed us last night." Hermione placed a jar of marmalade and some toast on the table, carefully avoiding looking at them. "I'm sorry, but there's no butter. We really need to go grocery shopping today."

"You did what?" It was Draco's turn to be irritated. Pushing Harry away, he straightened up to his full height. "Why?"

Harry sighed. It seemed the mood was well and truly gone. "Me, too. Sort of."

Draco glared at each of them in turn. "So, this is what happens if I let the two of you out of my sight for _one night_? I should have known that Gryffindors can't be relied on to keep a secret." He sat down again, picking up his mug with a resigned sigh. "All right. The full story, please, both of you."

* * *

They parted in the early afternoon, since Harry and Hermione had a few more last-minute wedding preparations to attend to. Their stories hadn't actually been as bad as Draco had feared. Apparently, neither of them had gotten around to mentioning his name, and even if some people suspected the truth, no one knew for sure. They would have to decide on a course of action, sooner rather than later, but for now, they still had a little breathing space.

After breakfast, they had gone back to bed, and the morning had ended in a very agreeable manner after all. Harry had been particularly creative today, but both of them had seemed extra eager to please him, as if to make up for their indiscretions.

And now he was back at the Manor, doing his best to focus on the book of household accounts his head house elf had presented him with when he had returned. It wasn't the most exciting of tasks though, and his mind kept wandering.

Oddly enough, he wasn't really mad at Harry and Hermione. In a way, it was flattering to know that they didn't consider him a dirty secret anymore. On the other hand, it irritated him no end to have to explain their relationship to all the world. He loved them, true, and he wanted to be with them, one way or the other, but he also valued his privacy, and this felt like an invasion of it. He didn't look forward to being paraded around their circle of friends. Or to introducing them to his Slytherin pals. Not to mention his parents…

As if on cue, green flames appeared in the fireplace, announcing a visitor. Very few people had access to his floo node, so he was only mildly surprised when his mother stepped out of the hearth. Since Narcissa wasn't in the habit of visiting without prior announcement, he guessed there had to be a good reason why she wanted to speak to him.

He didn't have to wait long. Without wasting time on greetings or explanations, she turned to face him, her expression one of long suffering. "Your father is livid, my dear." She made a clucking noise that immediately raised his hackles.

"So?" Coolly, he held her gaze, refusing to show any kind of emotion.

"Draco!" Narcissa sighed deeply. "Surely you care what your own father-"

"No." He shook his head. "I don't. But no doubt you'll tell me what it is that's got his wand in a knot this time."

Narcissa didn't pout. But if she had, now would have been the time. Her lips set in a thin, white line. "Well, I can't say I blame him. What is the meaning of _this_?"

With a dramatic flourish, she produced an old copy of the _Daily Prophet_ from her bag. The picture on page 3 showed Draco and Harry, with the latter's arm draped carelessly over his shoulder as they emerged from a bar in Soho late at night.

"Mother!" He rolled his eyes skyward. "That thing is several weeks old. And besides, surely you know better than to take Rita Skeeter's drivel seriously."

"It makes no difference how _old_ it is. One of the house elves found it in the trash and pointed it out to your father." Narcissa was brimming with righteous anger. "And I'm not talking about the article. I want to know what the picture is supposed to mean."

Draco picked up the paper, suppressing a smile when he saw the affectionate expression on Harry's face, the way his arm briefly tightened around his shoulder. It had been a fun night, full of dancing and kissing and laughter, and they'd never noticed the photographer sneaking up on them. They were lucky the picture hadn't been taken a few minutes earlier, when he'd been snogging Hermione in the shadow of the doorway, his hand sneaking up under her short skirt.

"It doesn't mean a thing, mother. I met Potter and his girlfriend at the club, we got drunk and had a good time, he stumbled on the doorstep and I caught him before he fell. Nothing else." Draco did his best to sound bored, but his mother wasn't fooled.

"And why is my son suddenly best friends with Harry Potter and his _girlfriend_?" Narcissa almost spat out the last word. "And what were you doing in a Muggle nightclub in the first place?"

He shrugged. "I told you, we were just having some fun. There's not much choice for a night out if you restrict yourself to the area around Diagon Alley. And Potter isn't too bad nowadays."

Narcissa opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again, breathing heavily.

"What?" Draco knew he sounded too defensive, knew he was only making her more suspicious, but he couldn't stop himself. "Are you telling me how to spend my nights out now? Any other details about my personal life you're interested in while we're at it?"

"Draco!" His mother paled visibly, and he closed his eyes, mortified at his own outburst.

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for." He bit his lip. "But honestly, mother, I-"

"You do what you please. I know I have no right to meddle in your affairs." Narcissa's voice was shaky. "But a picture like this… You have no idea what it's like for us, to have to explain to our friends why you socialize with Mudbloods-"

"No, I haven't." Once again, he felt his temper flare up. "And I don't care about those _friends_. Merlin's pants, mother, no one says _Mudblood_ anymore. It's offensive. It's racist."

"We're not _racists_!" His mother was openly scandalized. "Mrs Zabini is one of my closest friends. Just because we value the old Wizarding traditions-"

"Mother. Let it go." Suddenly, he felt too tired to even shout at her.

"It would all be so much easier if you got married." Narcissa sniffled daintily.

Recognizing the beginning of a familiar tirade, Draco stopped listening, resigning himself to the tedious hour that lay ahead. Ah, well. At least he could distract himself by dreaming of this morning's decidedly more pleasant activities.

* * *

Hermione spent the night before the wedding at the Burrow, snuggling up with Ginny and Luna in Ginny's old room, chatting and giggling until they all fell asleep. It was fun to be at the Weasleys' place again, surrounded by noise and laughter and chaos. Still, she was sincerely glad when everyone headed out to the garden for the wedding photos and she could catch a breath before the actual party started.

She was about to disappear upstairs with a book and a cup of tea when Fleur came back in and put a dainty hand on her wrist. "Hermione. Can we talk?"

Suppressing a sigh, she followed Fleur into the room she shared with Bill. It wasn't a big surprise that her friend wanted a word in private. After her big reveal at the hen night, all the girls had badgered her for details. She had readily admitted that she and Harry were involved with another man, but had refused to divulge his name, claiming that she'd have to ask his permission first. Which was true enough. But of course they'd all been wildly curious.

Fleur closed the door behind her with a decisive thud, favouring Hermione with one of her ravishing smiles. Hermione hadn't been too enthusiastic about Fleur back when they'd first met, but she'd really grown to like her over the years. Despite her stunning good looks, Fleur wasn't superficial or vain. She loved Bill deeply, completely unfazed by the ugly scars that marred his looks, and she was an able witch, clever and well-read. Fleur, for her part, appreciated having someone around who enjoyed speaking French with her occasionally. She'd been a big help in perfecting Hermione's command of the language. Her own English was fluent by now, of course, with the merest trace of an accent.

Now she was giving Hermione a shrewd look, tempered by the genuine warmth in her eyes. "That other man you're sleeping with… It's Draco Malfoy, right?"

Hermione inhaled sharply. "How do you-"

Fleur waved her right hand dismissively, managing to turn the simple gesture into a display of sheer grace. "Just something Ron said this morning. I put two and two together, and it all fell into place, somehow. Besides, _ma chère_ , the - _comment dit-on?_ \- chemistry between the three of you was pretty obvious, even back at Hogwarts."

Denying the truth seemed futile, so Hermione settled for a noncommittal shrug. "Yes. It's him. Please don't tell Molly and Arthur, will you? At least not yet."

"Of course not." Fleur made a face, motioning for Hermione to join her sitting on the bed. "Today's not the day for such revelations, and besides, I'll gladly leave that up to you. The reason I wished to talk to you…" She hesitated, crossing her legs prettily. "Look, I don't like to interfere, but I just have to speak up. You see, I worry about you, _ma petite_."

"Worry? Why?" Hermione was honestly confused. "I'm not your little sister, Fleur. I'm a big girl, and I know what I'm doing."

"Are you, really?" Fleur shook her head. "Draco Malfoy… He's attractive and exciting, I'll give you that. But, I don't want you to make the mistake of thinking your love will change him, turn him into a better man. So many girls are attracted to the bad boys, for all the wrong reasons."

"Says the woman who's married to a werewolf?" Hermione couldn't possibly resist that little barb.

"Bill is _not_ a werewolf. Technically." Fleur looked offended.

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry, Fleur. Bill's a great guy." Hermione grew serious. She was willing to admit Fleur had a point. "And, I understand what you're trying to say, but you needn't worry. I'm not a romantic teenager who thinks love will overcome all odds. That's not what this is about at all."

When Fleur gave her a doubting look, she elaborated. "Neither Harry nor I want to change Draco. There's no need. Honestly, if he was still the guy we knew at Hogwarts, I wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot broomstick." She shuddered at the mere thought. "But, when we met him again last year, he _had_ already changed. As a matter of fact, I believe it happened even earlier, at some point during our last year at Hogwarts. You see, Dracogrew up with the notion that being a Death Eater was cool and wicked, a way to impress people and make them respect you. When he came face to face with what they actually _did_ to others… I think he realized that wasn't what he wanted to be." She took a deep breath. "And, I can assure you he no longer subscribes to any of the pure-blood nonsense. Like most Wizards nowadays, he's come to see it for what it is: bigoted and outdated, an embarrassment to the entire community."

Fleur nodded thoughtfully. "I see what you mean. The war changed us all, so why not him? Still, I remember your stories. He must have been such a pain when you were at school-"

"We were kids, Fleur. And yeah, he was horrible." Hermione shook her head. "But, you know, I do think the situation at Hogwarts is partway to blame. So unhealthy, this whole business with the different houses and the Sorting Hat. I mean, we were - what? ten? eleven? - when we arrived at Hogwarts, and that… thing put us into different camps based on our supposed _character qualities_?" She laughed, a little bitterly. "You take an impressionable kid and tell them they're a Slytherin with a capital 'S' now, and they're destined to defend pure-blood ideology and dabble in the Dark Arts. Talk about self-fulfilling prophecies. If Draco had ended up in Gryffindor, we could have become friends. He would have been away from his parents' influence, among people who thought and felt differently. But the way things were, _everyone around him_ was telling him to hate and despise us. No wonder he did."

"I've never looked at it that way, but you're right." Fleur seemed shaken. "I'm glad we never had that kind of situation at Beauxbatons. It makes me wonder if we shouldn't reconsider where we send Victoire. How come none of your teachers realized what was happening?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. A lot of them were too caught up in the old ways themselves, like Snape or even Remus. And the others… probably because it is _tradition_. Wizards are a conservative lot. I had a chat with Professor McGonagall about it a few years ago, and she told me she'd made an attempt to abolish the Sorting ceremony after she became headmistress. It didn't go over well." She sighed. "At least, from what I've heard, most Slytherins are doing their best to get along better with the other houses nowadays."

Fleur got to her feet, carefully smoothing out her dress. "Well, I'm glad you have thought it all through, _ma chère_. Though, really, I shouldn't have doubted you in the first place." She smiled brightly, and once again, Hermione felt almost blinded by her charm and beauty. "Come on. We have a wedding to attend."


	13. Chapter 13

The wedding was pretty much what Hermione had expected, with an unholy number of Weasleys and Prewetts milling around the Burrow, making Matt’s friends and relatives all but disappear in the crowd. The food was delicious and plentiful, the music lively and danceable, and Ginny looked adorable in a cream-colored vintage wedding dress, with her hair done up in a complicated do.

Molly Weasley was far too busy and excited to notice anything unusual, yet Hermione felt oddly vulnerable when she embraced her, as if she expected her to immediately notice what they were hiding from her. _I'll have to tell her, and soon._ Molly wouldn't be happy, but she'd been like a mother to both her and Harry for most of their childhood, and she deserved their honesty.

Hermione loved her own parents and got along well with them, but she had always felt slightly jealous of the Weasley kids. As an only child, she couldn't help but be attracted to their chaotic, bustling family life, eager to be a part of it, even just for a while. _Maybe that's why I thought I was in love with Ron_. _If I'd married him, I'd be one of them now, with a big, happy family surrounding me._ A melancholy sigh escaped her lips at the thought. Though, if she was really honest, she much preferred being able to leave at the end of the day and return to her own quiet life.

She shook herself out of her gloomy thoughts. No need to get all mopey when she could be dancing! She looked around for Harry, but he was just taking Ginny's hand to lead her to the dance floor.

“’Mione? Dance with me?” Ron appeared at her shoulder, giving her a shy smile.

“Sure.” She smiled back, glad to see him, despite all their squabbles in the past.

He was looking good tonight, having opted for a dark suit rather than the old-fashioned Wizarding dress robes, which tended to make him look slightly ridiculous. _Seems he finally plucked up the courage to stand up to his mum. Good for him_. As he followed her to the dance floor, she felt his eyes on her bare back, but it wasn't a creepy feeling. In a way, it was flattering that he still admired her, even though it would probably be better for him to move on.

He hadn't had a single serious girlfriend since they'd broken up, Harry had told her, just a few flings with girls at the auror office, before he'd quit to work at the joke shop. But there was no one special in his life, it seemed, and it certainly wasn't because he was unattractive. He didn't have Harry’s charm or Draco’s looks, but he was funny and cute, and there was no reason why he shouldn't hook up with a nice girl.

When he put his arm around her and pulled her close, she happily leaned into his embrace. It was nice that he was so tall, and he wasn't a bad dancer. Molly had made sure that all her sons took basic dancing lessons, and he had a good ear for music. Slowly, they glided across the dance floor, waving at Harry and Ginny in passing. The two of them looked good together, too, Hermione thought without a trace of jealousy.

Ron sighed deeply, leaning back a little so they could talk more easily. “You know, I always thought this was how it was going to be." He looked so sad that it made her want to hug him. "You and me, Harry and Ginny. It would have been… neat."

Hermione squeezed his shoulder gently, but at the same time she decisively shook her head. "No, Ron. Not really.”

He looked taken aback, but she continued. He really had to understand this, even if it was painful for him. “You and me… That would never have worked out. You're one of my best friends, and I like you a lot, but that's not enough. We'd have been spectacularly unhappy together.”

“I know.” Swallowing, he pulled her closer again, so he didn't have to meet her eyes. “I just… get lonely at times, you know, and seeing you with Harry still hurts. But, I want you to be happy. Both of you.”

“Thank you.” She got up on her toes to place a quick kiss on his cheek. “We are, you know.”

He grew tense against her. “Are you really? Because if Harry…” There was a menacing undertone in his voice, protective rather than jealous, and it made her feel all warm and fuzzy. If Ron wanted to act the part of her big brother, she certainly didn't mind. As long as he didn't get too bossy, it was quite endearing.

“If Harry what?” The music had stopped, but they lingered, like most other couples, waiting for the next dance to start.

Ron swallowed. "What's really going on with you and Harry and Malfoy? Is Harry… _cheating_ on you?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Promise you won't make a scene?"

Ron flinched visibly. "Harry told you about the stag night thing, didn't he? Look, I'm sorry about that. I'd had too much to drink, and-"

“It's fine.” She stopped him with a gesture. “There's no cheating, Ron. But yes, we’re with Draco. Both of us, and we like it that way. It’s… amazing, actually.”

“But how-“ Ron blushed to the roots of his hair. “Never mind. I guess I'm too boring for that kind of thing. I can't even imagine how that would work.”

 _Oh, yes, you can_ , Hermione thought dryly. She could practically _see_ the images chasing each other in his head. “We’re happy the way things are. Really,” was all she said aloud, though.

“Well that's what counts, right?” Ron's smile was tentative, but it made her almost melt into his arms with relief as the music started again.

“Thank you.” Closing her eyes, she let him sweep her into a long, slow turn. _That went a lot better than I thought it would._

* * *

Draco tossed his book aside with a dissatisfied grunt. He was bored, and his rooms at the Manor felt too quiet, too empty. Hermione and Harry would be at the wedding all day long, and he missed them. He'd grown so used to spending his Saturdays with them that he hardly knew what to do with himself anymore now that he was alone.

On impulse, he decided to surprise his mother with a visit. At this time of the year, she'd be staying at the townhouse in London, and there was no danger of running into his father by accident. His parents had moved to a little country lodge after the war, and Lucius hardly emerged from it anymore nowadays. A sensible choice, since few people would have been willing to socialize with him anyway.

As Draco had expected, Narcissa was only too happy to see him. What he hadn't reckoned with, however, were the three ladies seated around her tea-table, nibbling on cupcakes and sandwiches while discussing their dissatisfaction with their house elves in epic detail.

Automatically, he took a step backward. He'd loved Narcissa’s sumptuous tea parties as a child, when all the ladies had cooed over him and fed him cake, but that had been a long time ago. Nowadays he had no desire for this kind of entertainment. “I'm sorry, mother. I didn't realize you had company.”

“Oh please, Draco, do stay.” Narcissa was beaming with pride as she took his arm and led him over to her guests. He sighed internally, even as he put on a polite smile. Of course she'd jump at the chance to show off her son.

“Mrs Greengrass.” He nodded at the tall, matronly woman who nearly had become his mother-in-law, receiving a frosty smile in response. “How nice to see you. I hope Daphne and Astoria are both well.”

His mother’s grip on his arm tightened almost imperceptibly, but she kept her composure admirably as she led him on. “You do remember Mrs Parkinson, don't you, Draco?”

“Of course I do. How's Pansy doing these days?” He smiled fondly. Pansy had hardly been the love of his life, but she had been a firecracker, back at school. Not to mention she'd been the first girl who'd let him-

“She's fine, thank you, Draco.” Pansy's mother was looking really good for her age, and he briefly wondered whether she had been to see one of those Muggle beauty surgeons Hermione had told him about. _Or maybe she opts for the traditional route and bathes in the blood of virgins_. Either way, her face looked beautiful, if a little hard around the edges. “You remember she got married last year? She's due next month, with twins. We’re so excited.”

He congratulated her, making the appropriate polite noises, then shook hands with the third lady, Mrs Harper. He hadn’t met her before, but he immediately disliked her, even if he was far too well-bred to let it show. As soon as the introductions were over, the ladies resumed their chatting and he retreated to his favourite armchair near the fireplace with his cup of tea. No one expected much input from him, so he was content to just listen and nod. His attention quickly drifted off, until one particular remark in Mrs Harper’s shrill voice made him sit up and take notice.

"Poor Mrs Zabini. She doesn't deserve this, I'm sure. Such a lovely woman, and now-“

“What's wrong?” He knew it was rude to interrupt her so crudely, but he didn't have the patience to wait. “What is Mrs Zabini's problem?”

Mrs Harper delicately cleared her throat, with a little sideways glance at Narcissa. The red spots on her cheeks might have come from embarrassment at being caught gossiping, but he rather suspected she was enjoying the fact that everyone’s attention was on her. "Well… it turns out her son, Blaise – isn't he about your age, Draco? He's been keeping a little Muggle girlfriend on the side."

Draco almost rolled his eyes at this turn of phrase, wondering if he should protest. He'd met Jessica a while ago, and he'd liked her well enough. Blaise for his part was obviously head over heels in love with her, even if he did his best to pretend otherwise.

But before he could say something, Mrs Harper was already babbling on. "… and now he's got her pregnant, and he's actually _proposed_ to her! They are getting married next month. Imagine!”

There was a moment of shocked silence before the ladies erupted into scandalized chatter.

His mother quietly reached for the teapot to refill their cups. Draco was still trying to process the news when her soft hum of disapproval made everyone go quiet again. Unlike Mrs Harper, Narcissa Malfoy had no need to raise her voice to make herself heard. “Goodness, what an unfortunate turn of events.” She was shaking her head, looking deeply concerned. “But really, what was the boy thinking? Surely there are better ways of dealing with such a delicate situation. I hope his mother can talk some sense into him."

Draco felt slightly queasy. “What do you mean, mother?”

Narcissa shrugged gracefully. "Well, the sensible course of action would be to get rid of the… fruit of this embarrassing little liaison, of course.”

He couldn't believe his ears. “But, what if they want the baby? What if Blaise is happy with the way things are?”

“Don't be silly, darling.” Narcissa laughed, but she was visibly uncomfortable with his reaction. “A young man from a good family like Blaise has so many opportunities. Such a pity if he were to ruin it all over-"

Draco didn't even know why her words made him so madly, blindly angry. All he knew was that he couldn't stand to listen to another moment of this. Slamming down his cup on the saucer, he got to his feet.

"What if it was me, mother? What if I was sleeping with a Muggle woman, and it was my child?” He heard the sharp edge in his own voice, he knew he was too loud, too aggressive, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. “Would you be just as eager to 'get rid of it'? After all your talk of wishing to be a grandmother?"

Narcissa laughed nervously. "Oh please, Draco, that's ridiculous. Of course, when I said I wanted grandchildren, I was assuming you'd be married, to a girl from a proper family. After all we've done for you, I'm sure you would never even consider-"

It was the last straw. He had spent more hours than he could count listening to her prattling on about his future, and he couldn't, wouldn't take it any longer. Something snapped inside him, and a curious feeling of disconnect took hold of him, as if he was standing beside himself, hearing himself talk. He noted with approval that he sounded calm and collected, even if his tone was icy.

“Well, you'd better get used to the idea, mother, because I'm already sleeping with a _Mudblood_ , as you like to call them. With Hermione Granger, to be precise. And by the way, I'm sick of hearing you talk about her as if she was vermin. She's a gorgeous, brilliant witch, and you should be proud she's taking an interest in your son.”

Narcissa gasped for air. “Granger! That hussy! So that's why… But that can't be.” She shook herself in irritation. “She's with Potter, isn't she? I've seen pictures of them in the _Prophet_ and you yourself said she was his girlfriend.“

Draco closed his eyes for a second, his mind racing, the sudden adrenaline rush already draining away. He could hear the other ladies frantically whispering in the background. If he told his mother now, everyone in their social circles would know by nightfall. But he could see no other way. _In for a knut, in for a galleon_. Instinctively, he straightened his shoulders.

“Yes. She's with Potter. And so am I, mother. I happen to like men, too, and the three of us-“

“What do you even mean?” Narcissa shook her head again, refusing to meet his eyes. “Are you under some kind of influence, my poor darling? You're not making sense at all.”

“I've heard of curses like that.” Mrs Greengrass looked almost as stricken as Narcissa. “They make you say all kinds of crazy and embarrassing things, like-“

“Will you listen, please?” Draco was fuming inside, but he forced himself to speak calmly. “I'm not cursed, and I'm not crazy, mother. And if you can't accept this, I'm sorry. But I'm with Hermione, and with Harry, and I love them both.”

The room was deadly silent. Four pairs of eyes were staring at him, all of them wide with shock. With a resigned sigh, he turned on his heel and headed for the floo.

At the last minute, he remembered something, and he turned to face his mother. "Make sure you don't forget to tell father. He won't appreciate it if he hears it from a gossiping neighbour."

* * *

The party was almost over, and the guests were leaving, one by one. Ginny and Matt looked tired but happy as they said their goodbyes and thank-yous to various aunts and uncles. Harry felt a warm rush of affection at the sight of Ginny. She looked really beautiful today, and he sincerely hoped she would be happy with Matt.

“Harry.” Bill appeared at his side, smiling that slightly unnerving wolfish smile of his. “Come along. Time for a drink.”

Only moments later, Harry found himself in Arthur Weasley’s study, with Bill, George, and Ron. As soon as they were all settled, drinks in hand, Bill strode over to the door and flipped the lock, adding a muffliato charm for good measure.

“Now we can talk in private. Finally.” As he walked back to the heavy mahogany desk, he nonchalantly reached over in passing to smack George on the back of the head.

“Ouch! What was that for?” George glanced up at his eldest brother, rubbing his head and muttering muffled curses.

“Why didn't you tell me, you pillock?” Bill’s warm, affectionate tone belied his sharp words. “Did you honestly think I'd give you a hard time?”

“Tell you what?” Ron looked utterly confused. “And why did you hit him?”

George sighed, exchanging a look with Harry. “I'm gay.”

“ _What_?” Ron seemed to have trouble processing the answer.

“Relax, Ron.” Bill shrugged. “With six boys in our family…” All of them flinched briefly at this reminder of who was missing today, but Bill went on, ignoring their reaction. “With six boys, there was always a fair chance one of them was going to be gay. It's basic statistics.” He grinned, baring his teeth. “Most people think it's Charlie, but then most people don't know him like I do.”

Harry nodded in agreement. The last time he'd seen Charlie today, he'd been headed for the Weasleys’ old barn in the company of two pretty blonde girls from Matt’s side of the family. And he hadn't shown up since.

Ron looked sulky. “Yeah, yeah. So George is gay. Fine. I've got no problem with that. It's just… What’s going on here all of a sudden? I mean, is no one just _normal_ anymore?” He glared at Harry.

Bill leaned back against the desk with his arms crossed, giving Harry a thoughtful look. “Depends on your definition of normal, I guess. But, I have to confess I'm curious about Harry, too.” He tilted his head. “Now, Fleur seems to think-“

Harry raised a hand to interrupt him. He took a deep breath before he met Bill’s gaze. “All right, I'll explain. Hermione and I… We’re in a sort of relationship with Draco Malfoy.”

“Merlin’s hairy left-" George nearly dropped his glass. "Blimey, Harry, give a bloke a break, will you? I mean, I'd more or less figured out that you're not as straight as everyone thought, but I sure as hell didn't expect _that_.”

Bill was looking at Ron. “You're taking it rather well, Ronnie.”

“Hermione told me, earlier today.” Ron was pale, but calm, thankfully. “I can't say I get it, but-“

“I don't understand it either.” George looked more fascinated than shocked, though. “I mean, _Malfoy_? Not blaming you as far as looks go, but he used to be such an insufferable little-“ He broke off, stopped by Harry's warning glare. "And what exactly do you mean by ‘sort of relationship’? Because if this is just something you and the missus do for extra kicks, I don't really need to know about it.”

Harry sighed. “Look, I know none of you likes Draco much. That may or may not change as you get to know him better. But the three of us have been sleeping together for over a year now and-“ Ignoring their surprised murmurs, he went on, raising his chin determinedly. “Whatever this is, it's not just some kinky fun. It's serious. It's important to us.”

Bill had stepped behind him, putting a calming hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it's okay. No one here is judging you.” He gave his brothers a sharp look, as if he expected to be contradicted, but Ron and George just nodded quietly. “But, what do you intend to do? Because you can't keep it secret much longer. People will talk, and some of them may be… less than enthusiastic.”

“And that's putting it mildly,” George interjected.

“I don't know.” Harry rubbed his forehead, feeling weary beyond words. “I wish I did. I really do.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

"Well, that was quick." Blaise's tone was dry. "I figured it wouldn't take long for the story to make the rounds, but I didn't expect you to fall over your own feet to tell me I'm an idiot for marrying her."

Draco shook his head. He'd headed for his friend's London flat straight away after leaving his mother and their guests. "You assume a bit too much. I'm here to congratulate the two of you, actually."

Blaise's eyebrows shot straight up. "Really? Well, thank you, I guess. It's not what we'd planned, but believe it or not, I'm happy." He gestured for Draco to follow him into the living room.

Draco sank down into a comfy armchair and stretched his legs. He liked Blaise's flat, especially since he'd had it remodelled a while ago. The new furniture was modern, but elegant, with clean, simple lines and muted colours. _The perks of dating a designer, I guess_. "Where's Jessica?"

"With her family." Blaise made a face. "She said she needed a moment to deal with my mother's reaction. I can't blame her."

"That bad?" Draco shuddered. Mrs Zabini had never seemed all that vicious to him, but he was ready to take Blaise's word for it. "Well, we're in the same boat then. I doubt my mother will be ready to welcome me back into her arms any time soon."

"Does that mean you _told_ her?" Blaise sounded almost awed. "You honestly went and told _Narcissa Malfoy_ that you've been fooling around with her nemesis? Or should that be nemeses? You're either braver than I thought or else a lot more stupid."

"I'm not sure which, either." Draco gladly accepted the glass of wine Blaise poured for him. "Yes, I did and, yes, it was bad. Spectacularly horrible. But, on the other hand it was sort of… liberating."

"Tell me about it." Blaise grinned mirthlessly. "I could have done without my mother screaming insults at Jess, but apart from that, confronting her was the most satisfying half hour of my life. There was so much that I should have told her years ago, you know."

"Exactly." Draco took a deep sip, rolling the wine appreciatively around in his mouth. "My mother may hate me now, but at least it's all out in the open and I don't need to worry about her finding out anymore." Briefly, he recounted the events of the afternoon.

"Holy hell…" Blaise looked sober. "You do realize that once the ladies start spreading the news, your mother is going to be the least of your problems?" Solicitously, he refilled Draco's glass, as if that would help matters. "I guess I should be grateful to you. No one is going to be much interested in my little scandal once they get their teeth into _that_ juicy bit of information." He rolled his eyes. "I never thought I'd say this, but I almost pity Granger and Potter."

"I know." Of course Draco was painfully aware of the fact. "It's going to be a nightmare, for all three of us."

And yet, he couldn't bring himself to regret his outburst, and he had a feeling Harry and Hermione wouldn't mind as much as Blaise thought. After all, they'd been willing to go to the wedding with him, ready to tell their friends and relatives. Either way, it was too late now, unless he was really going to blame his words on a babbling curse. And he knew that wasn't an option, no matter how tough it was all going to be.

With a deep sigh, he accepted another glass of wine. Tomorrow, he'd talk things over with the two of them. Tonight, he deserved a break.

* * *

It was an achingly beautiful morning, Harry thought, sunny and warm, with the barest hint of autumn in the air. The grounds surrounding Malfoy Manor were immaculately kept, with ancient trees swaying in the breeze and luscious flowerbeds framing the driveway. Draco hadn't been there, when they'd arrived at the appointed hour for breakfast, but a young house elf in a perfectly ironed uniform had taken them to a terrace behind the house and informed them he'd be back soon. Harry and Hermione had gladly accepted his offer to have a cup of coffee while they waited for "Master Draco" to return from his morning ride.

"I didn't even know the Malfoys owned horses." Hermione looked mildly impressed. "You know, the way Draco acted around Buckbeak, I always figured he didn't particularly like animals."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe he was just afraid of him, and embarrassed to admit it. I know I was dead scared of hippogriffs at first."

"Me, too," Hermione admitted. "How's Buckbeak doing these days, by the way?"

Harry smiled. "Hagrid says he's getting old and cranky. But last time I saw him, he was still preening around like a peacock."

Just then, they heard the noise of approaching hooves and Draco rounded the corner, seated elegantly on a beautiful black thoroughbred mare. When he saw them, he raised his hand in greeting, then got out of the saddle, taking a moment to scratch the horse behind the ear and breathe gently into its nose. The mare whinnied softly and then walked off, led by another elf.

Draco appeared relaxed and almost happy as he walked toward them. He also looked pretty hot in his tight grey breeches, Harry couldn't help but notice. He didn't embrace them, though, just put his hand on Harry's shoulder for a moment and breathed a quick kiss on Hermione's cheek. "Give me a moment, will you? I smell of horse, and I need a shower." He grimaced. "Meet me upstairs. I've had the breakfast table set in my rooms."

Hermione laughed softly as they made their way to Draco's preferred part of the house. "Wow. I think I'll never get over the lifestyle he's accustomed to. Imagine growing up like this!"

"Hey, it could be worse." Harry grinned back. "At least he can manage most daily routines on his own. From what I've heard, the Muggle Royal Family have servants that put their toothpaste on the brush for them."

"That's not true!" Hermione looked genuinely offended. "The older ones, maybe, but Prince William and Kate-" She broke off, blushing a little. "Anyway, the toothbrush thing is probably a rumour. And I didn’t mean to take the mickey or anything. It's just… Draco is so casual about it all, you know. The servants, the horses, the house. As if all those luxuries were the most normal thing in the world."

"Well they are, to him." Harry shrugged. "And I don't hear you complaining too much while we're here."

"I guess you're right." Hermione sank into her chair, surveying the sumptuous breakfast table with a sigh of pleasure. "But honestly, who could resist this?"

It was tempting to reach for the assorted delicacies without waiting for Draco, but fortunately he didn't keep them long.

"Gosh, that was wonderful." His smile was almost boyish, and with his hair damp from the shower, dressed casually in jeans and a shirt, he looked younger and less guarded than usual. "The park is lovely in the morning, all fresh and cool. I should do that more often."

Hermione smiled back. "You probably should. You look so… light-hearted. As if someone has taken a weight off your chest."

Draco's smile disappeared within a heartbeat. "Well, yeah, about that." He took a deep breath, his gaze flickering around the room before it finally settled on Harry. "I told my mother about the three of us. She wasn't happy."

For a moment, Harry didn't know what to say. Instinctively, he glanced at Hermione, but she seemed just as stunned as he was.

Draco was pale and there was a strained look around his eyes. "And it wasn't just her. She… She had friends over, and I doubt they'll be quiet about it. I'm sorry. I know I should have-"

"Hey." Hermione recovered first, jumping to her feet and embracing him. "It's okay. I mean, we're hardly in a position to complain. And I'm… I'm impressed, I really am. How did you-"

"Long story." Draco's voice was shaky, but Harry saw his arms tighten around her. "As I said, I'm sorry I-"

"Don't be." Harry finally found his voice. Joining the two of them, he ran a soothing hand down Draco's back. "The Weasleys know as well. Well, not Molly and Arthur, but all the rest," he amended. "It's time to stop hiding."

Draco leaned into his touch, exhaling sharply. "I guess it is. How was the wedding, by the way?"

"Fine." Hermione took a step back, her mouth set in a determined line. "But that's not important now. We need a plan, and quickly."

"What do you mean?" Not for the first time, Harry was amazed how calm and focussed she stayed in a crisis.

Draco's eyes were fixed on Hermione with undivided attention as he gestured for her to speak.

She shook herself impatiently. "Well, we can't just let this run its course, or we'll be arse deep in reporters who will make Rita Skeeter look tame." She grabbed a scone from the table, taking a big bite and chewing thoughtfully. "Right. Here's what I think we should do. Over the course of the next week, we'll talk to our friends and families, the people we really care about. Then, next weekend, we will invite Gin and Luna over to our place for an interview. And we'll tell them everything – well, at least all the important facts. The two of them can have exclusive rights to the story, and they can sell it to the _Prophet_ or give it to the _Quibbler_ for free, or whatever they want. No reason why they shouldn't profit from the whole affair."

"Have you gone completely bonkers?" Harry wasn't sure he'd heard right.

"No, she's right." To his surprise, Draco chuckled, though it sounded contemptuous rather than amused. "We might as well take advantage of the media attention, seeing as we can't prevent it anyway."

"Exactly." Hermione nodded calmly. "With all the pureblood gossips in the know, we won't be able to keep it quiet any longer. So let's give them our version of the story, and try to influence public opinion as much as we can."

"Do you honestly think that will make a difference?" Harry shuddered as he remembered the way the press had been all over him after Voldemort's return when he'd been just a boy. "They will distort and mangle everything we say, no matter what we do."

But Hermione was undaunted. "We should at least try. And I don't intend to be around by the time the papers hit the newsstand."

"You don't?" Draco looked doubtful. "What do you suggest we should do?"

"We'll need to drop off the radar for a good long while."Hermione's cheeks were flushed with enthusiasm. "It's probably best if we leave the country for a few months, until the first excitement has died down. Harry, you need to quit your job tomorrow. Tell them something has come up that makes you a security risk. They'll have to deal. And I'm going to talk to my supervisor. I'm due a sabbatical anyway, and I can take it starting next month. Up until then, she can find me a research task somewhere in Europe."

"And me?" Draco shook his head. "I know people tend to assume I'm rich and don't have to work, but the Malfoy fortune doesn't take care of itself. It's not that easy."

"I know, Draco." Hermione thoughtfully chewed on her lip. "But there may be a solution. Percy Weasley told me about a project he's working on with a few other arithmancers. They have succeeded in building up a Wizardnet, a kind of hidden structure hidden away within the Muggle internet. From what he said, once you have the hang of how it works, you should easily be able to access your accounts from all over the world."

Draco nodded hesitantly. "I need to know more, but yes, that might work. But really, do you think we can sort it all out by next weekend?"

Hermione raised her chin belligerently. "We can do it. If that's what you want, what we all want. And on the bright side, I wouldn't mind travelling again." She laughed at their long faces. "Oh, come on! It will be fun! And it will give us a chance to make up our minds about our future." Getting serious again, she took Draco's hand. "Well? What do you say?"

Draco was still white as a sheet, but he looked determined. "Yes. I'm with you."

Harry wasn't fully convinced, though. "And afterwards? We can't travel forever. What do we do once we get back? Are we really ready to be the talk of Wizarding Britain for the years to come?"

"We wouldn't necessarily have to live here in Britain." Hermione was undaunted. "My parents are still in Australia. We could settle down there, I guess. Or anywhere else. But we'll have plenty of time to sort out what we want."

They both nodded. Harry felt his chest tighten when he saw the look in Draco's eyes. _Merlin, we're really doing this. Really committing to each other, and_ he _is the one who set things rolling. If someone had told me, even weeks ago, I'd have called them crazy._

Hermione laughed briefly, almost hysterically, echoing his thoughts. "Merlin, this is so crazy, all of it. Can we really do this? Can _you_ do it, Draco?"

Draco shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, I made my decision yesterday. The rest is just details."

"Yeah." Hermione sighed. "So much to do. We'd better get started right away."

Harry exchanged a quick glance with Draco. None of them needed to spell it out; they understood each other without a word. "No. It's Sunday, 'Mione, and there's not much we can do today."

"But-" She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could get started, Draco pulled her into a loose embrace.

"Tomorrow." He kissed her gently, smiling over her shoulder at Harry. "Please. This is a big step, and I need you, both of you."

Without further argument, they made their way to the bed. Breakfast could wait.

* * *

Hermione was watching. Just watching, stretched out on the bed next to them, without lifting a finger to touch them, merely enjoying the view. And what a view it was. Draco lying on his back, open and vulnerable, with Harry kneeling between his legs, patiently taking him apart with his mouth and hands. They were so incredibly gorgeous, both of them, wholly fixated on each other, both of them naked and hard and eager.

Harry sat back, breathing hard, letting his eyes roam all over Draco's body. “Damn it, Draco, you're so …” He laughed, a little self-consciously. “You're so sodding perfect, all over. Everything about you. I don't think I've ever seen a cock as beautiful as yours.”

Draco laughed, visibly torn between being embarrassed and flattered, with the latter quickly winning out. Hermione tended to agree, but she couldn't quite keep her mouth shut any longer.

“Not just Draco. Both of you,” she corrected, her eyes lingering on them in a mute caress. _Definitely both of them_. She'd had enough other lovers to be able to compare, and she knew she was a lucky girl.

Harry’s smile turned mischievous. “You think?” With one smooth motion, he aligned himself on top of Draco, cocks touching, grasping both of them in one hand and giving them a few quick strokes. “Come on, Draco. Let's give the lady a show.”

Draco moaned brokenly, hips snapping up. “Merlin… You need to stop this, Harry, if you want more.”

“More?” Harry’s eyes went dark, the look in them changing from playful to predatory at amazing speed.

Draco inhaled slowly, a flush spreading over the pale skin of his chest. Holding Harry's gaze, he tilted his head toward the nightstand where he kept his supply of condoms and lubricant.

Harry went very still. Hermione held her breath. She knew it was a huge deal for Draco to let Harry take him. Some male dominance issue, no doubt, that went far beyond simple concern about the mechanics of the whole thing. Well, she couldn't blame him. It _was_ kind of a big deal, to allow someone else into your body, especially for the first time. And with guys… She herself was quite a bit ambiguous about the act itself, having read far too many warnings about possible infections and injuries to be wholly relaxed about it. Still, Harry obviously knew what he was doing, and she trusted him.

So did Draco, apparently. “Harry. Please. I'm ready.”

“You're sure?” Harry was already reaching for the lube bottle, but she had no doubt he'd stop if Draco changed his mind. Not easily, though. She knew he wanted this, had wanted it for months, and she rather admired his patience.

Draco nodded, tilting his hips to allow Harry better access. Hermione kept her eyes on his face, watching the expressions chase each other all over it as Harry touched him again: excitement; worry; defiance; a hint of fear… Instinctively she reached out to take his hand, and he responded eagerly, squeezing her fingers hard between his.

Just then, Harry pushed deeper, making Draco' hips fly off the mattress and his face contort with lust. Hermione craned her head to see, more curious than she cared to admit. Harry was working patiently at Draco, using two fingers now, and Draco moved into his touch with every sign of enjoyment. She turned her attention back to his face, observing the way he bit his lower lip in ecstasy, the fine pearls of sweat appearing on his forehead, and it was the hottest thing ever.

When Harry finally rolled on a condom, applying a generous amount of lubricant, Draco was panting hard, but at the same time she felt him tense up again.

“Relax.” Harry's voice was warm, but Draco shook his head.

Hermione nodded. _It's not that easy_. For a moment, she wondered whether Harry should have used a spell, like Nicolas had done with her. But at the same time, she knew that wasn’t an option. With everything that was between those two, everything that had happened in the course of the past few days, this had to be Draco's decision. His choice to let go of the past. His choice to trust Harry enough to open up for him.

“Draco?” Harry had to be nearing the end of his patience, but there was an infinite tenderness in his eyes. “Look at me.” He placed a hand on Draco's cheek. “I love you.”

Hermione could _feel_ it, the shudder that went through Draco's whole body as he gave in, even before she heard Harry sigh with relief.

“Damn it, you feel so _good_.” Harry's eyes were closed, and he was struggling, doing his best not to go too fast.

Glancing down, she could see he wasn't even all the way there yet, and Draco was already looking overwhelmed, shaking and gripping her hand so tight it hurt. Harry pulled back slowly and applied even more lube. When he pushed back in, he managed to twist his hips just a little, to get a better angle, and this time he slid all the way home in a single, smooth stroke.

Draco moaned, deep in his throat, arching into Harry's first slow, shallow thrusts. “Yes. Please. More.”

Harry complied with a breathless laugh, and they fell into a rhythm, uncertain at first, but picking up speed and force until Draco let go of her hand to wrap his arms around Harry instead, pushing him deeper. Harry had one hand around Draco's _e_ cock now, stroking him in time with his thrusts, and they were both getting close, so close she could feel the stutter of their hips and hear the growing urgency in their moans and sighs.

Hermione was almost jealous of their closeness, almost, but not quite, because after all she was here to share this with them, close enough to touch their entwined bodies. Besides, there would be more later, she was sure of it. Harry's words from when they'd talked about their fantasies came back to her. _I want Draco. And I want him while he's inside you._ The mere idea made her nearly faint with arousal.

Next to her, Draco cried out sharply, and then he was coming, all over his chest and stomach, coming so hard he went rigid all over, his heels digging deep into the mattress. Harry made a rough, strangled noise, and she knew he was there, too, finishing with a few quick, short thrusts, groaning deeply.

The aftermath was…awkward, but less messy than she'd feared. She did her best to keep out of the way, but as soon as they'd cleaned up, she gladly joined their embrace. Draco was unusually quiet and cuddly, heavy and relaxed against her back, while Harry pulled her into the nook of his arm.

“You okay?” Harry breathed a quick kiss on her temple.

“Mmhmmm.” She wiggled against him, though she doubted he'd be up for anything much soon. “Just really, really horny.”

Behind her, Draco laughed weakly. “I'm sorry. I'd love to take care of you, but right now…”

“It's okay.” She reached out for him, twisting around so she could kiss him. “You should get some rest.”

Harry grumbled his assent. “Come here.”

She gasped when he turned to face her and his hand found its way between her legs. “You don't have to-“

“I want to.” He was already sliding downward, grinning up at her cheekily.

With a happy sigh, Hermione lay back, burying one hand in Draco's damp hair, while the other guided Harry's head where she wanted him. _Well, then. Who am I to complain?_


	15. Chapter 15

The old Provencal farmhouse wasn't big on luxuries. The garden was overgrown and the stone-wall around it crumbled in places, and the pool was just about big enough for a quick, refreshing dip. Still, even though the rooms were small, they were tastefully furnished and neat, and the kitchen was well-equipped. It was more than adequate, considering they were only staying for a week. And more importantly, their nearest neighbours lived in a tiny village almost a mile away, so they were completely undisturbed.

Here, far away from London and their daily lives, they could enjoy their time together without having to deal with nosey reporters or meddlesome acquaintances. They had the luxury of being able to ignore what the general wizarding public thought about them and their relationship. It didn't stop Harry from thinking about it, though.

Shortly after they'd left England, Ginny's owl had found them in a small hotel in Bulgaria and had delivered a large envelope containing cuttings from both the _Prophet_ and the _Quibbler._ Harry reached for it now, leafing through the pages for the hundredth time, studying and comparing the articles their friends had written about them.

When they'd invited them over, Ginny and Luna had been eager, both of them doubtlessly aware what a story like this would do for their papers' sales and their own reputations. All things considered, the interview had gone well. Ginny had come well-prepared, with a list of questions and a self-writing quill, while Luna had mostly listened with a dreamy smile, preferring to write down her own observations later on.

Munching on a delicious _calisson_ , Harry skimmed the carefully selected questions and answers, trying to imagine how people would react to reading this.

Of course, not everything they'd talked about that afternoon had made it into the paper. Once they'd established the basic facts and taken the necessary pictures, Ginny had cleared her throat, looking from one to the other. "So, how is this really going to work? Are you going to live together? All three of you?"

Draco had been the first to break the silence. "We haven't really talked about it. But, to be honest. I think I'd prefer having my own place, you know, for when…" He'd hesitated.

"When it gets too much," Hermione had finished for him. "Yeah, and I think that's okay. This thing will only work if we are honest with each other about what we want from the relationship, and if we are able to compromise. And while I would love to have us all living in one place, I can accept a different solution, as long as we're together."

Ginny had nodded, putting on her best professional face. "That's all very well for the three of you. But, what about your families, your obligations? Draco, won't you have to marry at some point and produce an heir for House Malfoy?"

"I don't think either of us feel we have to get married-" Hermione had begun to reply.

But Harry had intervened at this point, shaking his head impatiently. "I guess technically he _could_ marry Hermione, if he has to, and the three of us could still be together. It's not really important."

Luna had nodded emphatically, but Ginny hadn't been satisfied. "But, you'd have to make some kind of arrangement, seeing as there are two such very large fortunes involved." She'd smiled at Draco, almost apologetically. "The Potters aren't quite as fabulously rich as the Malfoys, but if I remember correctly, Harry's account is still pretty impressive. So, if Hermione ever got pregnant…"

"We'd probably have to find out whose kid it was." Draco had remained stoically calm. "And of course we'd need someone to draw up legal papers for us, but really, that wouldn't be a problem."

 _The three seem remarkably relaxed and rational about their unusual life choices,_ Luna had written in her article. _And they are not alone. It's still a well-kept secret, but more and more wizards and witches today are questioning the ideal of lifelong monogamy and experimenting with new concepts. The heroes of the Wizarding War may well find themselves at the spearhead of a completely different struggle._

Harry rolled his eyes. Hermione had loved Luna's argument, but he really had no desire to become a figurehead of polygamy. He himself much preferred Ginny's more sober, restrained take on things in the _Prophet_. She'd taken extra care to point out that Draco Malfoy no longer had ties to any practitioners of Dark Magic, and that Harry and Hermione had the full support of their families and friends. He was more grateful than he could say.

By now, the original interviews had been followed by a slew of additional articles and commentaries. Ginny had kept them posted, sending them a brief summary once a week, which was about all Harry could take. Every single detail seemed to have been discussed ad nauseam: the wisdom of granting an amnesty to Draco in the first place; the real or imagined details of their life together; the decline of morals in the wizarding world, or – depending on the commenter's point of view – the urgent necessity to reform old-fashioned notions of marriage and relationships; ideal positions for three- and moresomes; the question of blood purity and whatever else the press had decided might be relevant to their situation.

Harry was sincerely grateful they hadn't been around to answer questions. Hermione's strategy had worked out perfectly. Apparently reporters had laid siege to Grimmauld Place and Malfoy Manor for a while, but when it had become obvious they wouldn't show up, most of them had quickly given up. So far, no one had been able to work out where they'd disappeared to.

A few had badgered the Weasley family for answers, but without much success. Arthur and Molly had simply refused to comment, and the few reporters persistent or crazy enough to try their luck with George and Ron were still recovering from the aftereffects of some of the Joke Shop’s nastier merchandise.As for the Malfoys and their friends, they had disappearedbehind a wall of icy silence, determined to pretend nothing unusual had happened at all.

Now, after more than four weeks, the media frenzy was finally beginning to calm down, but it would probably be wise to stay away a good while longer. _No point in giving them fresh fodder for their articles_. Harry yawned, glancing at the calendar on his phone.

Next week they'd be leaving for Australia, and over there, on the other side of the planet, they would hopefully be able to slow down a bit. So far, they hadn't dared to spend more than a week in one place, and as much as he'd enjoyed their whirlwind trip around Europe, he was ready to take a break.

And yet, he had never been as simply, mind-blowingly happy as in the past four weeks. He had never felt as complete, loved, and safe. And looking at the two people sharing his bed, he knew without doubt that being with them was worth it all.

* * *

Hermione was fully convinced that life didn't get any better than this. Here she was, lying naked in a pool of sunlight on a comfortable king-sized bed with a beautiful wrought-iron frame, with a slight breeze wafting in through the open window carrying the scent of lavender and rosemary. On the other side of the bed, Harry was browsing through various newspaper clippings, occasionally glancing up to smile at her.

Draco was lounging right next to her, half on his stomach, his head resting against her shoulder, one leg carelessly slung over hers. He was idly playing with one of her nipples, rolling it softly between his fingers, tugging gently, almost aimlessly. He looked dreamy, his eyes half-closed, a soft smile playing around his lips, completely unlike the Draco she'd known at home. His hair was a tousled mess, his skin had turned a pale gold, slightly reddish in places, but still lovely, and he was wearing nothing but a pair of faded board shorts. And he was gazing at her body with an expression of sheer tenderness that tugged at her heartstrings.

Just then he noticed her looking and within a single heartbeat his smile turned mischievous, his eyes flashing silver. She barely had time to register the change before his mouth closed around her nipple and he sucked hard, adding just enough teeth to make her feel it. Hermione cried out as a sharp bolt of pleasure, coupled with a faint tinge of pain, shot straight to her core.

Draco pulled away, grinning so smugly that she could have slapped him. But before she could get properly angry, his mouth was back, soft and sweet this time, his tongue soothing the sting with small, gentle laps. With a gasp, she arched up, and he chuckled softly without letting go of her, gradually increasing the pressure and suction until she was whining, her hand clenching in his hair. His hand settled on her thigh, and then slipped between her legs, unerringly finding the right spot. She mewled when he touched her, and he pushed deeper, two fingers sliding straight inside her because she was so wet already.

Hermione moaned unrestrainedly, grinding herself shamelessly into his grip, begging without words for more. He laughed again and obliged willingly, thrusting his fingers in and out of her at a lazy pace that drove her wild with need.

"Draco, please!" She wiggled a little, until he was brushing against that sensitive spot deep inside her with every one of his moves.

He was hard against her thigh, his breath coming in quick pants. Letting go of her for a moment, he ditched his shorts and rolled over with her so she was on top of him. And he felt so amazing, his skin warm from the sun, his hard shaft pressed against her core, his lips fluttering all over her neck and shoulders until they finally found her breasts again.

She couldn't get enough of his scent, his warmth, his low moans, and she rubbed herself against him, hungry for his touch.

"I love you. So much.” All mischief was gone from his face as he carefully positioned her over his body, straddling him, with his hands tight around her waist. Any moment now, he was going to thrust up and bury himself inside her. She held her breath, shivering with anticipation.

But instead, he glanced over her shoulder at Harry, who had long since abandoned the paper in favour of watching them, and nodded almost imperceptibly. And suddenly it was Harry at her back, warm and solid, Harry's cock nudging against her heat, Harry's mouth against her neck.

"Hey," he breathed in her ear, and the unspoken request was as clear as it could be.

Hermione nodded and pushed herself back against him. He entered her with a long, slow moan, and she whimpered, completely overwhelmed. Caught up as she was between their bodies, with Harry inside her and Draco's length pressed hard and taut against her shivering flesh, all three of them were so close she was almost sure she could feel their hearts beating. Draco reached over her shoulder to pull Harry into a deep kiss, drawing a rough sigh from his lips as their tongues entangled.

There was barely enough room to move like this, and various arms and legs kept getting in the way, but Hermione didn't care. She would have been content to stay like this for the rest of her life, just lying there quietly in their arms. But Harry had other plans. Pulling back, he pushed himself up on both arms, then slammed back into her with enough force to shove her hard against Draco. They both cried out, and he laughed breathlessly, then repeated the motion, over and over again, until his arms were trembling with the strain.

Harry felt wonderful inside her, but she took at least as much pleasure from the friction of Draco's hard cock against her. And Draco was obviously getting a huge thrill out of this as well, judging from the way his fingers were digging into her hips. It took her no time at all to reach her first peak, gasping both their names and sinking her nails deep into Draco's shoulders. She'd expected Harry to speed up his thrusts, but instead he slowly slid out of her, lifted her and carefully lowered her down on Draco's erection.

She'd thought she was done, thought she couldn't take any more, but when Draco slid home, she changed her mind. This was just what she needed: his cock where Harry's had been only moments before, just as good but subtly different, hitting her in new, exciting places. Harry remained close behind her, still hard, pressed tightly against her sweat-slicked body, and she knew he wasn't done with her yet.

It was so immensely arousing, the idea of the two of them taking turns filling her, pleasuring her, that she nearly blacked out. _So perfect_. Here she was, with twowonderful men who loved her, adored her, and took care of her. Nothing in the whole world could possibly be better than this. Nothing at all.

* * *

Draco just barely bit back an undignified squeak of surprise when Harry made his move and he was suddenly inside her, surrounded by her tight, warm walls. For a second, he wondered what Harry was planning, but then he caught his eye and heard him murmur a few words under his breath. _Let's see whether we can't wear you out._

He felt a grin spread over his face, remembering last night, when Hermione had shown them an article in an online magazine, titled "How Many Orgasms can a Woman Have." She'd been decidedly smug about it, too. Obviously, Harry was determined to take her to her limit today, and Draco didn't mind helping him out.

Holding her tight, he began to thrust upward, slow, shallow moves at first, while Harry sneaked a hand between them and caressed her with a feather light touch. Hermione's eyes were closed and she looked almost beatific. They made her come a second time, clenching hard around him, and it took all of his control not to follow her straight over the edge. Instead, he gently pushed her away, nodding at Harry who was only too eager to take over again.

Hermione's eyes flew open as he entered her again, and she made a small, soft noise. "Merlin, Harry, you're killing me. I can't-"

"You can." Draco ran a soothing hand down her trembling flanks. "Just let go."

And she did, and it was beautiful to watch, the way she moved with Harry, taking him in deeply, biting her lip hard as he brought her over again, his hips stuttering with the effort of holding on.

Harry wasted no time in passing her back to Draco, and she felt incredible, hot and wet and quivering all around him, so good he was almost sure he wouldn't last this time. But she was getting exhausted now, and probably a bit sore, and as she was slowing down, he got a chance to regain some control.

When she finally shuddered around him, Harry took hold of her again, but Hermione weakly shook her head. "Too much. Please. I really-" She looked completely wrecked.

"Shhh." Harry breathed a soft kiss on her neck and gently lowered her to the bed next to them, making sure she was comfortable.

And then he was all over Draco, his hands caressing every spot of oversensitive skin, his mouth closing hotly around Draco's throbbing cock.

"Oh, damn it, Harry!" It felt so good it bordered on pain, and he just had to return the favour. "Turn around. Now."

Somehow Harry managed to wriggle around without letting go of him. Impatiently, Draco took hold of his thighs, wrapping his lips around him. Harry was hot and heavy in his mouth, tasting of _her_ , of Hermione, salty and delicious, and that alone was nearly enough to make him come. They were both close, so very close, and they knew each other by now, knew exactly what would make the other one scream. In the end, it was Harry who came first, by the tiniest of margins, gasping and writhing and shivering all over, but at that point Draco was too far gone himself to notice much, too overcome to care.

By the time he'd recovered his bearings, Harry and Hermione had already snuggled up at his side. It was warm and sticky and not entirely comfortable, but he was too spent and exhausted to complain. Even talking felt like too much, so they just stayed where they were, breathing slowly and deeply, occasionally exchanging a sleepy kiss.

Draco's mind was drifting in and out of focus, thoughts and images chasing each other through his brain without ever coalescing into something tangible: His mother's shocked face; the salacious commentaries in the newspapers; Blaise's amused smirk; the warm summer sun on his skin; Hermione's loving smile; Harry's green eyes flashing at him… So many emotions, fear and anger and embarrassment, but also laughter and happiness and love, all of them at the same time.

Nothing in his life had prepared him for this, and he still had no idea how it would all work out. But that was fine. He was looking forward to finding out.

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the lovely LYRA who inspired this chapter with her comments - happy birthday, my dear, and I hope you have an awesome day. :)

**Happily Ever After**

"You think we should _what_?" Hermione's voice was fairly dripping with incredulousness, and Draco sighed internally. This was not going to be easy.

"Get married." Raising his hand to silence her protests, he threw an imploring glance at Harry who ignored him, intent on balancing a spoonful of pureed carrot into little Sam's mouth. Which was quite a challenge, as Draco knew from experience. Clearly, he would have to fight this battle alone.

He returned his attention to Hermione. "Hear me out? Please?" When she grudgingly nodded, he exhaled slowly, trying to collect his thoughts. "It's just… I can't help thinking that our lives would be so much easier."

"Easier how? We'll be back in the news the moment we announce it. Do you really want to explain our choices to the world all over _again_?" Hermione shook her head. "They've only just begun to lose interest."

"All right, maybe not easier, but…" Draco sighed. "I don't know. Neater. We wouldn't have to make a huge fuss about it, as far as I'm concerned. But if anything should happen to me, you and Sam would be safe."

"We are perfectly safe right now." Hermione's face had settled into an all too familiar stubborn expression. "I don't see anything threatening us, do you?"

"Oh, damn it. You know what I mean." Draco had a hard time hiding his irritation. "His inheritance-"

"We've done all the paperwork. He's officially yours. Not that it isn't completely obvious anyway." Hermione ran her hand gently through Sam's fine silver blond hair, then returned to glaring at him. "Your mother has been badgering you again, right?"

Draco didn't bother to deny it. For months now, Narcissa had been on his case, trying to convince him that he had to make things official. _"House Malfoy needs a_ proper _heir to carry on the family name. It's bad enough that his mother is-"_ Draco had cut her off there, before she had said anything that couldn't be unsaid, but he gritted his teeth at the memory. "Look, all I'm saying-"

"Does she still insist on calling him _Scorpius_?" Hermione's tone could have cut glass.

"It's his middle name," Draco pointed out wearily. Narcissa had been appalled at their choice of name for the kid, and in order to keep the peace, they had finally conceded that she could add a name of her choice. "You know it's important to her. Naming children after constellations is a Black family tradition."

"I still don't see why we couldn't have called him Sirius," Harry threw in, without taking his eyes off the spoon. "That would have been a nice compromise."

Of course, Harry's intervention only served to make Hermione even angrier. "Oh, come on, Harry! As if the Blacks wanted to be reminded of their black sheep. Besides…" She gazed fondly at her son who had succeeded in covering both his shirt and the high chair entirely in orangey goo. "Sam is his own person, not the second edition of your godfather. Who, by the way, would have been a terrible role model."

Harry snorted, but wisely refused to be drawn further into the discussion.

Draco sighed, wearily rubbing his eyes. "Look, can we forget about my mum for a moment?" Taking Hermione's hand, he pulled her into his lap, breathing a kiss on her cheek. "This isn't about her. It's about us. I _want_ to marry you. I want everyone to know I'm here for you and Sam. And Harry," he added, smiling apologetically at the other man.

"But that's just it. What about Harry?" Hermione's expression had softened a little, but there was a deep furrow between her eyebrows. "He's as much part of this family as the rest of us."

"Absolutely." Draco raised both hands in a defensive gesture. "And if I could, I'd marry you both, but-"

"I can be your best man." Harry had finally given up his attempts to feed the baby and was grinning at both of them. "Suits me fine."

"Harry!" Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Can you please be serious for a moment?"

"I am." Harry got to his feet and carefully manoeuvred Sam out of his high chair. "Really, 'Mione, I don't mind. I trust Draco. I'd trust him with my life. And I know he wants me, just as much as you." The heated look he threw Draco would probably have been far more enticing if he hadn't been covered in spit-up carrots. "This will be good for Sam, you know. If his parents are married-"

"But what if we have another baby? What if the next one’s yours?" Hermione sounded agitated. "Won't that change things?"

"Maybe." Harry shrugged. "We'll cross that bridge, when we come to it. For now, you have my blessing. If you want it."

Hermione took a deep breath, but before she could launch into another rant, Draco silenced her by pulling her into a long, lingering kiss. When they parted for air, she looked flushed, but still determined. "You're not distracting me with sex this time."

"Such a pity." Draco grinned, remembering their last little squabble, when that particular tactic had been a resounding success. "But really, love. This is important to me. If you insist, I'll even get a ring, go down on my knees, the whole nine yards, but-"

"Merlin, no!" She looked so scandalized that he had to bite back a chuckle. "You know how I hate that kind of thing."

"I won't, then. But please…" He kissed her again, just a teasing peck on her lips this time. "Please think about it. Will you?"

"All right." Freeing herself from his embrace, she got to her feet and reached for the baby, settling him on her hip in a smooth, practiced move. "I will. But I'm not making any promises."

_Not yet_. Draco felt a smile spread across his face. He was sure he would convince her eventually. He _was_ a Slytherin, after all.

* * *

 

_I can't believe he actually convinced her._ Harry had to fight the urge to shake his head as he let his gaze wander over the witches and wizards assembled in the rose garden at Malfoy Manor. _A wedding, with all the trappings._ No one but Draco could have persuaded Hermione to give it a shot.

Next to him, Neville cleared his throat. "Wow. I never thought I'd see all these people get together for a party again in my lifetime. But everyone seems to be having a good time. Congratulations, Harry."

"Don't jinx it." Harry grinned. "The party's not over yet. But yeah, so far, they're all behaving. Makes for a nice change."

Neville did have a point, though. The term 'mixed company' had certainly never been more applicable than today.

In one corner of the garden, Narcissa Malfoy was holding court, surrounded by her closest friends and admirers. Harry recognised Mrs Parkinson and her daughter Pansy, and a tall, dark lady that had to be Mrs Zabini. Blaise and his wife were there, too, though Jessica didn't seem to enjoy her mother-in-law's company very much.

On the other side, as far away from them as possible, was what Harry had secretly dubbed 'the Gryffindor table'. It featured the familiar assortment of Weasley redheads and their spouses, as well as Andromeda Tonks and her grandson Teddy, plus most of their friends from Hogwarts. Hermione’s parents and the few other muggles they had invited had their own table right next to them. They looked vaguely dazed and overwhelmed.

In between those two poles, various members of the other wizarding families were milling around. Since most of them were related to both Harry and the Malfoys, they at least didn't seem to feel the urge to take sides. One person was conspicuously absent, though. Lucius Malfoy had refused to take part in what he'd termed 'the decline and fall of a once noble house'.

"Where's Lucius?" Neville seemed to have read his mind.

"Hiding away in his cottage, as usual." Harry shrugged. "Can't say I'm sad about it. I wouldn't have enjoyed his company anyway."

Neville nodded quietly. "I don't blame you. Must be tough for Draco, though."

"Yeah, well. That's just the way it is." Harry swallowed. He was well aware that Draco would hate to be pitied by Neville, of all people, but he himself was sincerely touched by his friend’s concern. "See you later, Neville." Getting to his feet, he headed over to the main table to join the bride and groom.

As he approached them, he felt his heartbeat speed up. Hermione looked utterly lovely in her dress and Draco was just as delectable in his dark suit that matched Harry's. Even Sam, who had fallen asleep in his stroller, was all dressed up in an embroidered white romper.

Harry was rather looking forward to seeing the pictures they'd taken this afternoon, all four of them together and in various combinations, set against the backdrop of the Manor's luscious gardens and tastefully furnished rooms: Hermione sitting in the library, with Sam on her lap, reading the tales of Beedle the Bard to him; Draco and Harry kissing under an old oak tree; both of them embracing Hermione, with Sam playing at their feet… Even if there was no way for them to make their unconventional family official in the eyes of the law, those pictures would tell the real story of what had happened today. _And who knows, maybe Hermione will dig up some forgotten statute one day that allows for polygamous marriages. Or she'll just keep pestering the Ministry until they give in._

Hermione and Draco were busy chatting to George and his boyfriend, a cute blond Quidditch player he'd hooked up with a while ago. When he saw Harry approach, George’s face lit up in a wide grin. "Harry! Where have you been hiding? We’re all waiting for your speech."

"No speech." Harry categorically shook his head. "Sorry, guys, but that would just be too weird."

"Aw, what a shame." George gave him a cheery wink. "I was hoping for some dirt on Malfoy here. You know, embarrassing stag night anecdotes, naughty jokes about the wedding night, the lot."

"Ugh, no thanks." Hermione made a face. "I can't possibly imagine anything worse."

"My sentiments exactly." Draco nodded. "Besides, I'm afraid you'd be disappointed. Our stag night was cancelled because Sam was running a fever. As for embarrassing stories… everybody here knows all our dirty secrets already. And since Harry is going to spend our wedding night with us, he's hardly in a position to joke about it either."

Harry nearly choked on his drink. He hadn't expected Draco to be quite so straightforward about their plans for the night.

Then again, George clearly didn't mind. "Good point. You know, Malfoy, you've really loosened up. You might not be so bad after all."

"Thank you." Draco’s tone was dry as old parchment. "I'll take it as a compliment, even though it's coming from a Gryffindor."

"Feel free." George’s grin widened. "Still, you know…" He elbowed Hermione lightly in the ribs. "Mrs Hermione Malfoy. I don't believe it."

"Hermione _Granger_ Malfoy," she corrected him, and Harry grinned at her pedantic tone.

It had been a long discussion. Draco had insisted on Sam taking his name, at the very least, and in the end, he'd persuaded Hermione that things would be easier if she had the same last name as her son. Lucius and Narcissa hadn't been happy about the double name thing, but since they couldn't do anything about it either way, their opinion hardly mattered. And Harry was fine with it. Some part of him vaguely wondered whether there would ever be any kids to carry on his own name, but all things considered, it wasn't really that important to him. He knew well enough how much of a burden the name _Potter_ could be. Maybe his kids would be better off without it.

"It will all take some getting used to it," was all he said aloud. "But hey, we can handle it, I guess."

"I'm sure you can." George’s face turned serious for a moment. "Congratulations, guys. I'm really happy for you." And already the suggestive grin was back. "And I bet that wedding night is going to be epic."

* * *

"Hey, what's the matter?" Harry pulled Draco into a loose embrace. "Anything wrong? Too many Weasleys, maybe? Though really, they were on their best behaviour today."

They were finally alone, in the big master bedroom at Malfoy Manor, having disapparated from the party among cheers and fireworks. Hermione was more relieved than she could say. Some part of her still couldn't believe that they had managed to pull the whole thing off without a glitch, let alone a full-blown scandal.

"Oh, shut up!" Draco gave Harry a half-hearted shove. "It was all good. I just miss Sam."

"Yeah, me, too." Harry pulled him closer, and Hermione smiled at the sight of them. So much tenderness, and at the same time, she could already feel the tension building underneath. "But I'm sure he's doing great. You know he adores Ginny."

"And she definitely has a lot of practice handling kids," Hermione added dryly.

Ginny’s twin boys, Felix and Godric, were almost three years old and a proper handful. If she was honest, Hermione couldn't fathom how Ginny was going to handle an additional kid, even with Matt's help. But her offer to take care of Sam had been simply too tempting to say no. And after all, there would probably be plenty of Weasley uncles around to help, should the need arise. "They'll be fine."

It was partly an attempt to convince herself, but Hermione was glad to see Draco relax a little, too. He adored Sam, and he had taken to fatherhood like a duck to water. Since the boy's birth, they hadn't spent a single night without him sleeping next door, so this felt weird for them all.

"Tonight is just for us." Harry’s hands had begun a slow, thorough exploration of Draco’s upper body, and Hermione felt a tingle spread in her belly. _Just for us_. Much as she loved her baby, she had missed this in the past few months: the three of them, making love, undisturbed and uninhibited.

"That sounds lovely." Stepping closer, she began to undo the buttons on Draco's shirt, one by one, savouring the way he shivered under her touch.

It was almost a pity to undress him, really. He looked so very good in a suit. Still, when the shirt finally came off, she moaned happily. So much pale smooth skin, and all of it hers to caress. Harry seemed to feel much the same, judging from the way his hands tightened on Draco's chest.

Draco made a small, needy noise. "We have to get you out of that dress. Now."

"Agreed." Reluctantly, Harry let go of him and moved over behind her to get started on the little hooks down her back. "Much as I like it on you, I prefer you naked. Or at least less wrapped up."

"I agree." Draco leant in to nibble on her bare shoulder. "You're so beautiful."

Hermione closed her eyes, enjoying their attentions to the full. She hadn't wanted a dress at first, and certainly not a white one, but Draco had been patient. And when they'd finally found this one, a blush-coloured princess gown with a full, wide skirt and a tight, pearl-encrusted bodice, she had fallen in love with it at first sight. It had been fun to dress up for once, allowing everyone to fuss about her hair and make-up. Still, by now she was about ready to get out of the dress.

With a swishing noise, the fabric pooled at her feet, and she gingerly stepped out of it. Harry carefully stowed the dress away, while Draco ran his finger along the lacy edge of her bra with a pleased hum. "Now what?"

Harry was back, having ditched his own shirt, and she leaned into his embrace, savouring his warmth. _A whole night, just for us_. Both men were looking expectantly at her, and she took a deep breath. _What now, indeed._ "Well… You remember that fantasy of mine I told you about, years ago?"

Harry inhaled sharply. "The one where we both-" He laughed, sounding suddenly breathless. "Of course I remember. But… are you really sure you want that? Because back then you said-"

"I know. But that was then." Hermione nodded, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks. "And yes, I'm sure. I mean, this seems like the perfect occasion, doesn't it?"

_To have them both at the same time_. It had been one of her most cherished fantasies for years, and yet she had never dared to make it true. But tonight… She still had her misgivings, of course, but she'd watched the two of them make love countless times by now, and she knew they were both skilled and gentle. Besides, ever since she'd given birth to Sam, she'd felt… more robust, somehow, less fragile, where sex was concerned. She had a lot more confidence in her body's ability to handle whatever her men could come up with.

Draco hadn't said anything so far, but Merlin, the way he was looking at her! His eyes had gone pitch dark, and there was look of intense focus on his face that nearly made her moan aloud. _Oh yes. He wants it, too._

"So how…" Draco cleared his throat. "How do we do this?" He cupped her right breast with one hand, tracing the outline of her nipple through the lace.

Hermione whimpered softly. How could she possibly be so turned on already? The mere thought of what they were about to do was making her shiver all over. "Harry?" Instinctively she looked to him for help. "Any suggestions?"

He shrugged, trying to sound casual, but she wasn't fooled. There was the tiniest tremor in his voice, and his eyelids were fluttering. "Let's get naked and move over to the bed."

"Sounds like a good start." Hermione felt a nervous little giggle rise in her throat, and did her best to suppress it. "Do we need-"

"I've got this. Don't worry." Harry exchanged a quick look with Draco and the two shared a smile.

Moments later, their remaining clothes were gone and they settled on the bed. Harry was digging around in the nightstand for lube and a condom, but Draco didn't waste any time. Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her hungrily. And it felt good, so good, but at the same time, she was the teensiest bit tense, and when Harry joined them, he noticed it immediately.

"'Mione. We don't have to go through with this, if you're having second thoughts." He sounded adorably serious. "Right, Draco?"

Draco nodded, but Hermione wasn't fooled. He'd be disappointed, and rightly so. After all, she had been the one to bring the whole thing up. And she was still determined. "No second thoughts. I want you. Both of you." She took a deep breath. "I'm just nervous."

Harry looked thoughtful. "Hmmm… Let me see." Sliding off the bed, he made his way across the room to the music system Draco had installed at their instigation. "There. That should help."

Soft jazz music began to play, something old-fashioned – Duke Ellington, maybe? Either way, Hermione felt herself gradually relax. Draco was still holding her, kissing her gently, and now Harry snuggled in behind her, embracing her and breathing kisses on her neck. They knew her so well, both of them, and she trusted them with all her heart.

And they understood each other without words. At precisely the same moment, their caresses changed from tender to sensual, Draco's kisses getting more insistent while Harry cupped her breast from behind and pinched her nipple lightly. She moaned into Draco's mouth, and they both ground against her, both of them more than half hard already.

"You feel so good." Draco's mouth found her breasts at the same time as Harry's hand wandered lower, parting her legs with assurance.

And it felt so amazing, the way they were stimulating all her sensitive spots at once, hands and lips and teeth everywhere. When Draco finally abandoned her breasts, and slid between her legs, she was impossibly wet already. But he seemed to be in no hurry. Lifting her leg and placing it on his shoulder, he got to work, slowly and methodically, his lips and tongue exploring every single inch of her with a thoroughness that made her gasp.

She was so distracted by Draco's efforts that she hardly noticed Harry reaching for the lube and a condom. His touch barely registered with her until he slipped a slick finger inside her, and even then, it seemed so natural, so logical that she didn't even flinch. Twisting around a little, she managed to catch Harry's mouth, and he kissed her deeply, drinking her sighs from her lips like nectar.

"I love you so much." His voice was deep and hoarse, much deeper than usual, and he was trembling with want.

But he remained patient and thorough, stretching and caressing her until she was ready to beg. And when he finally, carefully pushed inside her, she was so relaxed and eager that it didn't hurt a bit. Still, the angle wasn't perfect and it took him a moment until he was fully lodged inside her, spooning her with his body, embracing her tightly from behind. He stopped at that point, and Hermione was grateful. She felt… full and stretched and everything was so very tight already.

And yet, she wanted Draco, too, she _needed_ him. He had moved up to kiss her again, and she could feel him hard against her thigh, so very eager to take her. "May I?" His voice was barely a whisper as he lifted her upper leg.

Hermione nodded, unable to speak, and then he was _there_ , slowly entering her, inch by careful inch, and it was… She bit her lip hard, but there was no way to stop a long, low whine from escaping her throat.

Draco froze in motion. "Are you okay?" He sounded genuinely worried.

"I'm fine. Just… overwhelmed." She swallowed hard.

"Me, too." He shifted a little and moaned, deep in his throat. "Damn it, Harry, is that _you_? Your-"

"Yeah." Harry's voice was shaky. "Merlin’s balls, I didn't …" He exhaled sharply, but he didn't say more, just gripped her hips tightly, burying his face between her shoulder blades.

For what seemed like an eternity, neither Harry nor Draco moved, and Hermione couldn't really do much herself, wedged in between them as she was. But that was fine, that was perfect, because she needed time to adjust to this, to all the new sensations, to the sheer intensity of it. Finally, Draco lifted his head and smiled at her, almost shyly. And then he slowly rolled his hips, pulling back just a little and thrusting back in. They moaned in unison, all three of them.

"Harry?" Draco sounded raw, and his eyes were feverish.

"Yes." And now it was Harry’s turn to move, slowly but insistently, and she felt it all the way up her spine. It was almost too much, and yet she didn't want it to end, ever.

They took turns moving, careful not to hurt her, and Hermione was glad for it. After all, neither of them was exactly small. But as they picked up speed, their deliberate rhythm faltered a little, until suddenly they both pushed inside her at the same time, hard and deep. Involuntarily, she cried out and they immediately stopped, but that wasn't what she wanted, so she urged them on, breathlessly begging for _more, yes, harder,_ in a voice she didn't recognize as her own.

And they both gave her precisely what she wanted: long, deep thrusts that rocked her to the core of her being, moving in perfect synchronicity now, as if they'd never done anything else. And it felt good, so good, but it still wasn't quite enough, so she reached down between her legs to touch herself, whining in frustration, when her climax still eluded her. It was almost as if her body didn't dare to go there, because it would be too much to bear, too strong, too intense.

"Damn it, Hermione!" Draco's eyes were fixed on her hand, and they were wide and feverish. "Let me…" And he put his hand over hers, carefully increasing the pressure.

That did it. The world went blindingly white for a moment, and then black, and she actually must have passed out for a moment, because when she came to her senses, Harry was already pulling back, trembling all over, his hair damp with sweat.

"Hermione?" Draco was clearly at the end of his tether. "I'm sorry, but I-"

"Shhh." Wrapping her legs around his waist, she pulled him in deep, as deep as she could, and yes, that was what he needed. Two more sharp, quick thrusts, and he was there, pouring himself inside her, his face a picture of total abandonment.

"Damn." Next to them, Harry was lying on his back, watching them with a dreamy smile. "That was incredible."

Draco made a small, affirmative noise, as he sank down heavily on top of her, too far gone to care. When Hermione gasped for air, he somehow managed to push himself up again on both arms, only to collapse on her other side. He was panting so hard she could see his chest rise and fall with each breath, and he, too, was covered in a fine sheet of sweat.

"We need a shower. Urgently." Hermione felt stupid the moment the words left her mouth, but it was too late.

Already, both of them had started to chuckle softly, though neither of them bothered to raise their heads.

"Later." Harry snorted softly. "Anything you want, love, but I can't possibly move right now."

"Me neither." Draco actually managed to open one eye far enough to wink at her. "Merlin, Hermione, you are impossible. And I love you."

She briefly considered punching his arm, but suddenly, even lifting her arm seemed too much of a chore, with her body all heavy and sated. "I love you, too. Both of you," she managed instead.

"So…" Harry yawned hugely. "How do you like married life so far?"

"Married life?" Already, her eyes were falling shut, and she was too exhausted to even snicker at his words. The bath would definitely have to wait until tomorrow. "It’s perfect. Just perfect."

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hugs and thanks to my wonderful beta suilven, and to all the people who encouraged me to post this.


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